“Will that do?” he said, glancing up. Then he started in amazement, not undashed with alarm; for the other, who had been standing over him, emitted a sort of gasp. His face seemed to contract, then harden as he glared at the paper, then at the man who held it.
“That your name?” he said, and his voice took on a sort of growl.
“Yes; of course,” was the wondering answer.
“That’s your name—your real name?” repeated the stranger, and the growl in his voice and the stare of his eyes seemed full of menace and hate.
“Yes; that’s my name, and there it is,” answered Wagram firmly, yet not without a dire foreboding over the extraordinary effect it seemed to produce.
“Yes—of course. Ho-ho! That’s your name—Wagram Gerard Wagram! Of course it is—of course. Ho-ho!” And, snatching up the paper, the other went out of the hut, leaving behind him the echo of his mocking tones and savage, sneering laughter.