The Story Continued by Marian Halcombe

“Ah, but you mustn’t come in,” was the answer, with another and a broader grin still. “How dare you talk to me in that way? Stand back instantly!” She stretched out a great red hand and arm on each side of her, so as to bar the doorway, and slowly nodded her addle head at me. “Master’s orders,” she said, and nodded again. I had need of all my self-control to warn me against contesting the matter with her , and to remind me that the next words I had to say must be addressed to her master. I turned my back on her, and instantly went downstairs to find him. My resolution to keep my temper under all the irritations that Sir Percival could offer was, by this time, as completely forgotten⁠—I say so to my shame⁠—as if I had never made it. It did me good, after all I had suffered and suppressed in that house⁠—it actually did me good to feel how angry I was. The drawing-room and the breakfast-room were both empty. I went on to the library, and there I found Sir Percival, the Count, and Madame Fosco. They were all three standing up, close together, and Sir Percival had a little slip of paper in his hand. As I opened the door I heard the Count say to him, “No⁠—a thousand times over, no.” I walked straight up to him, and looked him full in the face.