'The other ...,' he opened the envelope and caught sight of the writing in shorthand. The dark look came into his face, and his eyes blazed wickedly, 'The other is a vile thing, an outrage to friendship and hospitality! It is not signed. Well! So it cannot matter to us.' And he calmly held letter and envelope in the flame of the lamp till they were burned.

Then he said, 'Of course I shall send on the letter to Hawkins, since it is yours. Your letters are sacred to me. Please excuse me, my friend, for opening it without knowing what was inside. Will you not close it again?' He held out the letter to me. Then with a polite bow, he gave me a new envelope.

I could only write the address again and hand it to him in silence. When he went out of the room I could hear the key turn softly. A minute later I went over and checked the door. It was locked.

An hour or two later, the Count came quietly into the room. I woke up when he came, because I had gone to sleep on the sofa. He was very polite and very seemed to be very cheery. He saw that I had been sleeping, and said, 'So, my friend, you are tired? Get to bed. You will rest better there. I may not have the pleasure of talking with you tonight, since there are many labours for me to do. But please, you should get some sleep.'