and not over
the wine. Later in the evening, if you please--later in the evening."

"Civil!" said Sir Percival savagely. "Civil behaviour, upon my soul,
to a man in his own house!"

I had more than once seen him look at the Count uneasily during
dinner-time, and had observed that the Count carefully abstained from
looking at him in return. This circumstance, coupled with the host's
anxiety for a little quiet talk over the wine, and the guest's
obstinate resolution not to sit down again at the table, revived in my
memory the request which Sir Percival had vainly addressed to his
friend earlier in the day to come out of the library and speak to him.
The Count had deferred granting that private interview, when it was
first asked for in the afternoon, and had again deferred granting it,
when it was a second time asked for at the dinner-table. Whatever the
coming subject of discussion between them might be, it was clearly an
important subject in Sir Percival's estimation--and perhaps (judging
from his evident reluctance to approach it) a dangerous subject as
well, in the estimation of the Count.

These considerations occurred to me while we were passing from the
dining-room to the drawing-room. Sir Percival's angry commentary on
his friend's desertion of him had not produced the slightest effect.
The Count obstinately accompanied us to the tea-table--waited a minute
or two in the room--went out into the hall--and returned with the
post-bag in his hands. It was then eight o'clock--the hour at which
the letters were always despatched from Blackwater Park.

"Have you any letter for the post, Miss Halcombe?" he asked,
approaching me with the bag.

I saw Madame Fosco, who was making the tea, pause, with the sugar-tongs
in her hand, to listen for my answer.

"No, Count, thank you. No letters to-day."

He gave the bag to the servant, who was then in the room; sat down at
the piano, and played the air of the lively Neapolitan street-song,
"La mia Carolina," twice over. His wife, who was usually the most
deliberate of women in all her movements, made the tea as quickly as I
could have made it myself--finished her own cup in two minutes, and
quietly glided out of the room.

I rose to follow her example--partly because I suspected her of
attempting some treachery upstairs with Laura, partly because I was
resolved not to remain alone in the same room with her husband.

Before I could get to the door the Count stopped