At the expiration of a few moments, he said, "This letter is from my capitalist. He gives me both good and bad news. He will advance the loan; but he cannot command the necessary amount for three months."
"Then there will be three months' more delay?" exclaimed the count in a tone of vexation.
"Three months! and what is that? A mere nothing!" cried Mr. Greenwood. "You can satisfy yourself of my friend's sincerity."
With these words he handed to the count the letter which he had written to himself in a feigned hand, and to which he had affixed a fictitious name and address.
The count read the letter and was satisfied.
He then rose to depart.
"To-morrow evening, at seven o'clock punctually, I shall do myself the pleasure of waiting upon you. In a few days, you remember, I and my family are coming up to town to pass some time with Lord Tremordyn."
"And I shall then be bold and presumptuous enough," said Greenwood, "to endeavour to render myself acceptable to the Signora Isabella."
"By the bye," exclaimed the count, "I forgot to inform you of the villany of that Richard Markham, whom I received into the bosom of my family, and treated as a son, or a brother."
"His villany!" ejaculated Greenwood, in a tone of unfeigned surprise.