of his own to contend with, and that he had come, like the rest of the family, to cast them all on my shoulders.
“Did he mention his business?” I asked.
“Count Fosco said he had come here, sir, because Miss Halcombe was unable to leave Blackwater Park.”
Fresh troubles, apparently. Not exactly his own, as I had supposed, but dear Marian’s. Troubles, anyway. Oh dear!
“Show him in,” I said resignedly.
The Count’s first appearance really startled me. He was such an alarmingly large person that I quite trembled. I felt certain that he would shake the floor and knock down my art-treasures. He did neither the one nor the other. He was refreshingly dressed in summer costume—his manner was delightfully self-possessed and quiet—he had a charming smile. My first impression of him was highly favourable. It is not creditable to my penetration—as the sequel will show—to acknowledge this, but I am a naturally candid man, and I do acknowledge it notwithstanding.