The effect of this recital upon me, so quaintly and so dramatically told, may be conceived; and I sat turning it over and over and judging it by the light of what I myself already knew.
"And what are you going to do now?" I asked at length.
"Sell what I know to the best purchaser—unless you can do what you said, help me to my revenge. I know you are in this; though you little guess the part they have cast for you."
"What's your price? I can take care of myself," I answered.
"Revenge is my chief point. I am a Corsican; and, by the Holy Tomb! I'll never stay my hand till I've dragged the chief villain down."
"You mean?" I asked.
"That snake von Nauheim—the Count von Nauheim. The Honorable Count, a member of the aristocracy. A lily-livered maggot."
He changed from irony to vehement, ungovernable rage with swift, tempestuous suddenness.
"To whom will you sell your secret? The Ostenburgs?"
At the mention of the name he turned and looked at me intently, the light of the lamp throwing up the strong shadows of the face; and he stood staring thus for a full minute. Then he laughed.