was his wife’s, that the ground floor of the house was quite clear, and that they might now speak to each other without fear of accidents.  Sir Percival merely answered by upbraiding his friend with having unjustifiably slighted his wishes and neglected his interests all through the day.  The Count thereupon defended himself by declaring that he had been beset by certain troubles and anxieties which had absorbed all his attention, and that the only safe time to come to an explanation was a time when they could feel certain of being neither interrupted nor overheard.  “We are at a serious crisis in our affairs, Percival,” he said, “and if we are to decide on the future at all, we must decide secretly to-night.”

That sentence of the Count’s was the first which my attention was ready enough to master exactly as it was spoken.  From this point, with certain breaks and interruptions, my whole interest fixed breathlessly on the conversation, and I followed it word for word.

“Crisis?” repeated Sir Percival.  “It’s a worse crisis than you think for, I can tell you.”

“So I should suppose, from your behaviour for the last day or two,” returned the other coolly.  “But wait a little.  Before we advance to what I do not know, let us be quite certain of what I do know.  Let us first see if I am right about the time that is past, before I make any proposal to you for the time that is to come.”

“Stop till I get the brandy and water.  Have some yourself.”

“Thank you, Percival.  The cold water with pleasure, a spoon, and the basin of sugar.  Eau sucree, my friend—­nothing more.”

“Sugar-and-water for a man of your age!—­There! mix your sickly mess.  You foreigners are all alike.”

“Now listen, Percival.  I will put our position plainly before you, as I understand it, and you shall say if I am right or wrong.  You and I both came back to this house from the Continent with our affairs very seriously embarrassed—­”

“Cut it short!  I wanted some thousands and you some hundreds, and without the money we were both in a fair way to go to the dogs together.  There’s the situation.  Make what you can of it.  Go on.”

“Well, Percival, in your own solid English words, you wanted some thousands and I wanted some hundreds, and the only way of getting them was for you to raise the money for your own necessity (with a small margin beyond for my poor little hundreds) by the help of your wife.  What did I tell you about your wife on our way to England?—­and what did I tell you again when we had come here, and when I had seen for myself the sort of woman Miss Halcombe was?”

“How should I know?  You talked nineteen to the dozen, I suppose, just as usual.”