’The cautious Baron listens—­but gives no positive opinion, as yet.  “See what you can do with the Courier,” he says; “and I will decide when I hear the result.  One valuable hint I may give you before you go.  Your man is easily tempted by money—­if you only offer him enough.  The other day, I asked him, in jest, what he would do for a thousand pounds.  He answered, ‘Anything.’  Bear that in mind; and offer your highest bid without bargaining.”

’The scene changes to the Courier’s room, and shows the poor wretch with a photographic portrait of his wife in his hand, crying.  The Countess enters.

’She wisely begins by sympathising with her contemplated accomplice.  He is duly grateful; he confides his sorrows to his gracious mistress.  Now that he believes himself to be on his death-bed, he feels remorse for his neglectful treatment of his wife.  He could resign himself to die; but despair overpowers him when he remembers that he has saved no money, and that he will leave his widow, without resources, to the mercy of the world.

’On this hint, the Countess speaks.  “Suppose you were asked to do a perfectly easy thing,” she says; “and suppose you were rewarded for doing it by a present of a thousand pounds, as a legacy for your widow?”

’The Courier raises himself on his pillow, and looks at the Countess with an expression of incredulous surprise.  She can hardly be cruel enough (he thinks) to joke with a man in his miserable plight.  Will she say plainly what this perfectly easy thing is, the doing of which will meet with such a magnificent reward?

’The Countess answers that question by confiding her project to the Courier, without the slightest reserve.

’Some minutes of silence follow when she has done.  The Courier is not weak enough yet to speak without stopping to think first.  Still keeping his eyes on the Countess, he makes a quaintly insolent remark on what he has just heard.  “I have not hitherto been a religious man; but I feel myself on the way to it.  Since your ladyship has spoken to me, I believe in the Devil.”  It is the Countess’s interest to see the humorous side of this confession of faith.  She takes no offence.  She only says, “I will give you half an hour by yourself, to think over my proposal.  You are in danger of death.  Decide, in your wife’s interests, whether you will die worth nothing, or die worth a thousand pounds.”

’Left alone, the Courier seriously considers his position—­ and decides.  He rises with difficulty; writes a few lines on a leaf taken from his pocket-book; and, with slow and faltering steps, leaves the room.