It was easy to understand why that recognition had not been mutual.  A man of the Count’s character would never risk the terrible consequences of turning spy without looking to his personal security quite as carefully as he looked to his golden reward.  The shaven face, which I had pointed out at the Opera, might have been covered by a beard in Pesca’s time—­his dark brown hair might be a wig—­his name was evidently a false one.  The accident of time might have helped him as well—­his immense corpulence might have come with his later years.  There was every reason why Pesca should not have known him again—­every reason also why he should have known Pesca, whose singular personal appearance made a marked man of him, go where he might.

I have said that I felt certain of the purpose in the Count’s mind when he escaped us at the theatre.  How could I doubt it, when I saw, with my own eyes, that he believed himself, in spite of the change in his appearance, to have been recognised by Pesca, and to be therefore in danger of his life?  If I could get speech of him that night, if I could show him that I, too knew of the mortal peril in which he stood, what result would follow?  Plainly this.  One of us must be master of the situation—­one of us must inevitably be at the mercy of the other.

I owed it to myself to consider the chances against me before I confronted them.  I owed it to my wife to do all that lay in my power to lessen the risk.

The chances against me wanted no reckoning up—­they were all merged in one.  If the Count discovered, by my own avowal, that the direct way to his safety lay through my life, he was probably the last man in existence who would shrink from throwing me off my guard and taking that way, when he had me alone within his reach.  The only means of defence against him on which I could at all rely to lessen the risk, presented themselves, after a little careful thinking, clearly enough.  Before I made any personal acknowledgment of my discovery in his presence, I must place the discovery itself where it would be ready for instant use against him, and safe from any attempt at suppression on his part.  If I laid the mine under his feet before I approached him, and if I left instructions with a third person to fire it on the expiration of a certain time, unless directions to the contrary were previously received under my own hand, or from my own lips—­in that event the Count’s security was absolutely dependent upon mine, and I might hold the vantage ground over him securely, even in his own house.

This idea occurred to me when I was close to the new lodgings which we had taken on returning from the sea-side.  I went in without disturbing any one, by the help of my key.  A light was in the hall, and I stole up with it to my workroom to make my preparations, and absolutely to commit myself to an interview with the Count, before either Laura or Marian could have the slightest suspicion of what I intended to do.