"Bad, bless you, no. He's neither good nor bad. He's what all his kind are; squeamishly particular on a point of honor, and with not a moral scruple to his name."
Mrs. Harbinger held the letter by the corner, regarding it with little favor.
"I'm sure I don't want his old letter," she observed. "I'm not a purveyor of gossip."
"Why did he give it to you?"
"He wanted me to read it, and then to show it to my friends. He telegraphed to New York last night, Tom said, to find out about the Count, and the letter must have come on the midnight."
"Characters by telegraph," laughed Mrs. Neligage. "The times are getting hard for adventurers and impostors. But really the Count isn't an impostor. He'd say frankly that he brought over his title to sell."
"That doesn't decide what I am to do with this letter," Mrs. Harbinger remarked. "You'd better take it."
"I'm sure I don't see what I should do with it," Mrs. Neligage returned; but at the same time she took the epistle. "Perhaps I may be able to make as much mischief with this as I did with that letter yesterday."
The other looked at her with serious disfavor expressed in her face.
"For heaven's sake," she said, "don't try that. You made mischief enough there to last for some time."