"They were friends, it appears."
"Julian made the Count's acquaintance some while ago in Paris, and has, I believe, visited his home in the Tyrol."
"However that may be, they quarrelled in Bristol. Count Lukstein came down from London to take the waters at the Hotwell, by St. Vincent's rock, and has resided there for the last three months. 'Twas a trumpery dispute, but nought would content Sir Julian but that they must settle it with swords. He was on the way to the trysting-place when he was taken."
And with a final rap on the table, Mr. Vincott leaned back in his chair, and froze again to a cold deliberation.
"That," said he, "is the second fact I have to bring to your notice."
"And the first," I cried, pressing the point on him, "the first is that no one knows who gave the information!"
"I observed, I believe," he replied, returning my gaze with a mild rebuke, "that between those two facts there is no connection."
At the time it seemed to me that he was bent on fobbing me off. But I have since thought that he was answering after his fashion the innuendo which my words wrapped up. He took out his snuff-box as he spoke, and inhaled a great pinch. The action suddenly recalled to me the manœuvres which I had watched from the window.
"It was a foreigner," I said, starting up in my excitement, "it was a foreigner who dogged your steps this afternoon."
"I like the ornaments of the ceiling," says he (for thither had his eyes returned); and, as though he were continuing the sentence: "I may tell you, Mr. Buckler, that Count Lukstein left Bristol eleven days ago."