"Entrez!" cried a shrill voice.
Berger entered.
The man he came to see stood with his back to the door, before a looking-glass, busy finishing his toilet. He turned round, thinking it was a waiter. The new comer cast a rapid look around the room, locked the door quickly and noiselessly from within, and then went to the middle of the room.
"What do you want?" asked Count Malikowsky, still busy with his cravat.
"My name is Berger. I have already told you what I want."
"If you have any demand upon me you can speak to my valet. I do not trouble myself with such things."
"I know very well," said Berger, without changing a feature, "that Count Malikowsky likes best to have demands which are presented to him in person attended to by others, even by assassins, if needs be; but this time I trust he will make an exception."
With these words he approached the round table in the centre of the room, placed the little box on it, and took from the box the two pistols which it contained.
The count had witnessed these proceedings with an amazement which made him for a time speechless and motionless. The sight of the pistols, however, brought him to his senses again. With a rapidity which one would not have thought possible at his age he hastened to the door.
Berger stepped in his way, the pistols in his hand.