reatening what he cannot
really do. I doubt his power of annoying us, by means of the owner of
the Asylum, now that Sir Percival is dead, and Mrs. Catherick is free
from all control. But let me hear more. What did the Count say of me?"

"He spoke last of you. His eyes brightened and hardened, and his
manner changed to what I remember it in past times--to that mixture of
pitiless resolution and mountebank mockery which makes it so impossible
to fathom him. 'Warn Mr. Hartright!' he said in his loftiest manner.
'He has a man of brains to deal with, a man who snaps his big fingers
at the laws and conventions of society, when he measures himself with
ME. If my lamented friend had taken my advice, the business of the
inquest would have been with the body of Mr. Hartright. But my
lamented friend was obstinate. See! I mourn his loss--inwardly in my
soul, outwardly on my hat. This trivial crape expresses sensibilities
which I summon Mr. Hartright to respect. They may be transformed to
immeasurable enmities if he ventures to disturb them. Let him be
content with what he has got--with what I leave unmolested, for your
sake, to him and to you. Say to him (with my compliments), if he stirs
me, he has Fosco to deal with. In the English of the Popular Tongue, I
inform him--Fosco sticks at nothing. Dear lady, good morning.' His
cold grey eyes settled on my face--he took off his hat solemnly--bowed,
bare-headed--and left me."

"Without returning? without saying more last words?"

"He turned at the corner of the street, and waved his hand, and then
struck it theatrically on his breast. I lost sight of him after that.
He disappeared in the opposite direction to our house, and I ran back
to Laura. Before I was indoors again, I had made up my mind that we
must go. The house (especially in your absence) was a place of danger
instead of a place of safety, now that the Count had discovered it. If
I could have felt certain of your return, I should have risked waiting
till you came back. But I was certain of nothing, and I acted at once
on my own impulse. You had spoken, before leaving us, of moving into a
quieter neighbourhood and purer air, for the sake of Laura's health. I
had only to remind her of that, and to suggest surprising you and
saving you trouble by managing the move in your absence, to make her
quite as anxious for the change as I was. She helped me to pack up
your things, and she has arranged them all for you