Doris continued, heedless of the interruption. "It is true that I dislike you. I am glad to be able to say it to you, openly. And yet, perhaps, I should use another word. I dislike you and fear you in equal parts. I dislike your secrecy—something dark and hidden within you—and I fear your influence over my father." Her voice faltered over the last word, and she paused.
Lady Dinsmore's cheerful tones broke across the silence.
"Doris," she charged, "you are preaching to the count. He is looking quite sulky and bored."
He shook his head at her, smiling.
"My unfortunate face, it belies me. I was, in truth, deeply interested. Miss Grayson was speaking of her father."
He turned back to the girl. "You will continue the—how you say—arraignment?" he asked gravely. "I would know the worst. I influence your father for evil—but how?"
Doris looked at him sombrely.
"I don't know—exactly," she admitted. "But you are somehow connected with the—the scheme—a terrible illegal scheme," her voice was only just audible. "That I know to a certainty. Father spoke to me one day of you——"
Count Poltavo started.
"It was after he had decoded a telegram. He looked up and spoke of your brilliance and discretion. He said you had the mind of a Napoleon."