Several days later Pesca came to see me, and asked for a quiet word in my ear. He had just returned from Paris. "I have news for you, my friend,' he said. "You need not worry any more about the man at the opera. His body was found in the river Seine yesterday and now lies in the morgue in Paris He was killed by knife wounds to the heart Count Fosco is dead?' I said, amazed. Are you sure? I saw the body with my own eyes. He was wearing a French workman's clothes, and had a different name, of course, but he was the fat man we saw at the opera that night. No question"But how do you know this?' I asked