The Story Continued by Marian Halcombe

As he spoke the light in Madame Fosco’s room was extinguished, and the whole second floor of the house was now sunk in darkness. “Talk! talk!” grumbled Sir Percival. “One would think, to hear you, that my wife’s signature to the deed was got already.” “You have left the matter in my hands,” retorted the Count, “and I have more than two months before me to turn round in. Say no more about it, if you please, for the present. When the bills are due, you will see for yourself if my ‘talk! talk!’ is worth something, or if it is not. And now, Percival, having done with the money matters for tonight, I can place my attention at your disposal, if you wish to consult me on that second difficulty which has mixed itself up with our little embarrassments, and which has so altered you for the worse, that I hardly know you again. Speak, my friend⁠—and pardon me if I shock your fiery national tastes by mixing myself a second glass of sugar-and-water.” “It’s very well to say speak,” replied Sir Percival, in a far more quiet and more polite tone than he had yet adopted, “but it’s not so easy to know how to begin.” “Shall I help you?” suggested the Count. “Shall I give this private difficulty of yours a name? What if I call it⁠—Anne Catherick?” “Look here, Fosco, you and I have known each other for a long time, and if you have helped me out of one or two scrapes before this, I have done the best I could to help you in return, as far as money would go. We have made as