"About fifty."
"And his appearance,—his countenance?"
"Most sinister. Never shall I forget his clear, piercing, green eye, and his nose curved like the bill of an eagle."
"'Tis he,—'tis he himself!" exclaimed Rodolph. "And do you think, madame, that the Doctor Polidori you were describing is still in Paris?"
"That I cannot tell you, my lord. He quitted Paris about a year after my father's marriage. A lady of my acquaintance, who at this period also employed the Italian as her medical adviser—this lady, Madame de Lucenay—"
"The Duchess de Lucenay?" interrupted Rodolph.
"Yes, my lord. But why this surprise?"
"Permit me to be silent on that subject. But, at the time of which you speak, what did Madame de Lucenay tell you of this man?"
"She said that he travelled much after quitting Paris, and that she often received from him very clever and amusing letters, descriptive of the various places he visited. Now I recollect that, about a month ago, happening to ask Madame de Lucenay whether she had heard lately from M. Polidori, she replied, with an embarrassed manner, 'that nothing had been heard of or concerning him for some time; that no one knew what had become of him; and that by many he was supposed to be dead.'"