The Story Continued by Marian Halcombe

“What are you going away for?” asked Sir Percival⁠—“I mean you , Fosco.” “I am going away because I have had dinner enough, and wine enough,” answered the Count. “Be so kind, Percival, as to make allowances for my foreign habit of going out with the ladies, as well as coming in with them.” “Nonsense! Another glass of claret won’t hurt you. Sit down again like an Englishman. I want half an hour’s quiet talk with you over our wine.” “A quiet talk, Percival, with all my heart, but not now, and not over the wine. Later in the evening, if you please⁠—later in the evening.” “Civil!” said Sir Percival savagely. “Civil behaviour, upon my soul, to a man in his own house!” I had more than once seen him look at the Count uneasily during dinnertime, and had observed that the Count carefully abstained from looking at him in return. This circumstance, coupled with the host’s anxiety for a little quiet talk over the wine, and the guest’s obstinate resolution not to sit down again at the table, revived in my memory the request which Sir Percival had vainly addressed to his friend earlier in the day to come out of the library and speak to him. The Count had deferred granting that private interview, when it was first asked for in the afternoon, and had again deferred granting it, when it was a second time asked for at the dinner-table. Whatever the coming subject of discussion between them might be, it was clearly an important subject in Sir Percival’s estimation⁠—and perhaps (judging from his