My letter produced its effect.  I heard nothing more from the lawyer.

This perhaps was not altogether surprising.  But it was certainly a remarkable circumstance that no second letter reached me from Marian, and that no warning signs appeared of her arrival.  Her unexpected absence did me amazing good.  It was so very soothing and pleasant to infer (as I did of course) that my married connections had made it up again.  Five days of undisturbed tranquillity, of delicious single blessedness, quite restored me.  On the sixth day I felt strong enough to send for my photographer, and to set him at work again on the presentation copies of my art-treasures, with a view, as I have already mentioned, to the improvement of taste in this barbarous neighbourhood.  I had just dismissed him to his workshop, and had just begun coquetting with my coins, when Louis suddenly made his appearance with a card in his hand.

“Another Young Person?” I said.  “I won’t see her.  In my state of health Young Persons disagree with me.  Not at home.”

“It is a gentleman this time, sir.”

A gentleman of course made a difference.  I looked at the card.

Gracious Heaven! my tiresome sister’s foreign husband, Count
Fosco.

Is it necessary to say what my first impression was when I looked at my visitor’s card?  Surely not!  My sister having married a foreigner, there was but one impression that any man in his senses could possibly feel.  Of course the Count had come to borrow money of me.

“Louis,” I said, “do you think he would go away if you gave him five shillings?”

Louis looked quite shocked.  He surprised me inexpressibly by declaring that my sister’s foreign husband was dressed superbly, and looked the picture of prosperity.  Under these circumstances my first impression altered to a certain extent.  I now took it for granted that the Count had matrimonial difficulties 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.