I sent in my card, and I still do not know why the Count let me into his house at half past eleven at night. Was he just curious to see me? He would not have known that I was at the opera with Prsca, and I suppose he thought he had nothing to fear from me.
He was still in his evening suit, and there was a travelling case on the floor, with books, papers, and clothes all around him. My guess had been night.
'You come here on business, Mr. Hartright?' he said, looking at me with curiosity. 'I cannot think what that might be.'
'You are obviously preparing for a journey, ' I said. 'That is my business. I know why you are leaving London.'
'So you know why leaving London?' He went over to a table and opened a drawer.' I said. 'Roll up the sleeve on your left arm, and you will see it.'
His cold grey eyes stared into mine. There was a long heartbeat of silence. I was as certain as if I had seen it that he had a thread.
'Wait a little,' I said. 'Before you act, I advise you to read this note.' Moving slowly and carefully, I passed him Pesca's note.
He read the lines aloud.
Your letter is received. If I don't hear from you before nine o'clock I will open the envelope when the clock strikes
Another man might have needed an explanation, but not the Count. His expression changed, and he closed the drawer.
'You are cleverer than I thought,' he said. 'I cannot leave before nine as I have to wait for a passport to be delivered. Your information may be true or may be false - where did you get it?'
'I refuse to tell you.'
'And that unsigned note you showedme - who wrote it?'
'Man whom you have every reason to fear,'
A pause. 'What do you want of me, Mr Hartright? Is it to do with a lady, perhaps?'
'Yes, my wife,' I answered.
He looked at me in real amazement, and I saw at once that he no longer considered me a gabgerous man. He folded his arm and listened to me with a cold smile.
'You are guilty of a wicked crime,' I went on. 'But you can keep the money. All I want is a signed confession of the plot and a proof the date my wife travelled to London.'
'Good!' he said. 'Those are you conditions; here are mine. One, Madame Fosco and I leave the house when we please and do you not try to stop us. Two, you wait here until my agent comes early tomorrow morning and you give him an order to get back your letter unopened. You then allow us nalf an hour to leave the house. Three, you agree to fight me at a place to be arrnged later abroad. Do you accept my condition-yes or no?'
His quick decision, his cleverness and force of character amazed me. For a second I needed to prove Laura's identity was far more important than revenge.
'I accept your condition,' I said.
At once, he called for coffee and sat down ti write. He wrote quickly for quite some time. Finally, he jumped up, declared that he had finished and read out his statement, which I accepted as satisfactory. He gave me the address of the company from whom he had hired the cab to collect Laura, and also gave me a letter signed by Sir Percival. It was dated 25th July, and announced the jourey of Lady Glyde to London on 26th July. So there it was. On 25th July, the date of her death certificate in London, Laura was alive in Hampshire, about to make a jourey the next day.
The Count then called in Madame Fosco to watch me while he slept. Early in the morning his agent arrived and I wrote a note for Pesca. An hour later, the agent returned with my unopened letter and the Count's passport.
'Remember the third condition!' the Count said as he left. 'You will hear from me, Mr Hartright.' Then he and the Countess got into the agent's cab with their bags and drove away, leaving the agent with me to make sure I did not follow.
As I watched them leave, another cab went by and I saw inside the man with the scar on his cheek. What was his business with the Count, I had fough my own battle with the count just in time. You cannot get a signed confreesion out of a dead man.