"Now, sir," said the count, turning to Richard; "is the statement of this man easy to be refuted?"
"Alas! I am compelled to admit that, the victim of the most extraordinary circumstantial evidence ever known to fix guilt upon an innocent man, I was a prisoner in Newgate and the Compter; but——"
"Say no more! say no more! God forgive me, that I should have allowed such a man to become the friend of my wife and daughter!"
The count uttered these words in a tone of intense agony.
"Count Alteroni, allow me one word of explanation," said Richard. "Only cast your eyes over this paper, and you will be convinced of my innocence!"
Markham handed the document signed by Talbot, alias Pocock, to the count; but the nobleman tossed it indignantly on the floor.
"You have confessed that you have been an inmate of the felons' gaols: what explanation can you give that will wipe away so foul a stain? Depart—begone! defile not my house longer with your presence!"
Vainly did Markham endeavour to obtain a hearing. The count silenced him with an air of command and an imposing dignity of manner that struck him with awe. Never did the Italian nobleman appear more really noble than when he was thus performing that which he considered to be an imperious duty. His fine form was drawn up to its full height—his chest expanded—his cheeks were flushed—and his eyes flashed fire. Yes—even beneath his dark complexion was the rich Italian blood seen mantling his countenance.
"Go, sir—hasten your departure—stay not another minute here! A man accused of forgery—condemned to an infamous punishment,—a liberated felon—a freed convict in my family dwelling—— Holy God! I can scarcely restrain myself within the bounds of common patience when I think of the indignity that myself, my wife, and my innocent daughter have endured."
With these words the colonel pushed Markham rudely from the pantry, and ordered a servant to conduct him to the front door.