`Yes,'
`She has told your secret once.'
`She won't tell it again.'
`Why not? Are her own interests concerned in keeping it, as well as yours?'
`Yes -- deeply concerned.'
`I am glad to hear it, Percival, for your sake. Don't be discouraged, my friend. Our money matters, as I told you, leave me plenty of time to turn round in, and I may search for Anne Catherick tomorrow to better purpose than you. One last question before we go to bed.'
`What is it?'
`It is this. When I went to the boat-house to tell Lady Glyde that the little difficulty of her signature was put off, accident took me there in time to see a strange woman parting in a very suspicious manner from your wife. But accident did not bring me near enough to see this same woman's face plainly. I must know how to recognise our invisible Anne. What is she like?'
`Like? Come! I'll tell you in two words. She's a sickly likeness of my wife.'
The chair creaked, and the pillar shook once more. The Count was on his feet again -- this time in astonishment.
`What!!!' he exclaimed eagerly.
`Fancy my wife, after a bad illness, with a touch of something wrong in her head -- and there is Anne Catherick for you,' answered Sir Percival.
`Are they related to each other?'
`Not a bit of it.'
`And yet so like?'
`Yes, so like. What are you laughing about?'
There was no answer and no sound of any kind. The Count was laughing in his smooth silent internal way.
`What are you laughing about?' reiterated Sir Percival.
`Perhaps at my own fancies, my good friend. Allow me my Italian humour -- do I not come of the illustrious nation which invented the exhibition of Punch? Well, well, well, I shall know Anne Catherick when I see her -- and so enough for tonight. Make your mind easy, Percival. Sleep, my son, the sleep of the just, and see what I will do for you when daylight comes to help us both. I have my projects and my plans here in my big head. You shall pay those bills and find Anne Catherick -- my sacred word of honour on it, but you shall! Am I a friend to be treasured in the best corner of your heart, or am I not? Am I worth those loans of money which you so delicately reminded me of a little while since? Whatever you do, never wound me in my sentiments any more. Recognise them, Percival! imitate them, Percival! I forgive you again -- I shake hands again. Good night!'
Not another word was spoken. I heard the Count close the library door. I heard Sir Percival barring up the window-shutters. It had been raining, raining all the time. I was cramped by my position and chilled