"A great misfortune probably," the stranger said in a firm voice. "You see that I act frankly with you, whatever your opinion may be. I only ask of the count ten minutes' conversation; after that he can do whatever he pleases with the secret I intrust to him, and the news I bring him."
There was a moment's silence. The count examined the stranger's calm face while reflecting profoundly. At length the unknown rose, and, bowing to the count, said,—
"Which am I to do, señor—stay or go?"
The count turned a piercing glance upon him, which the other endured without betraying the slightest emotion.
"Stay!" he said.
"Good!" the unknown remarked, and seated himself again on the butaca.
"Gentlemen," continued the count, addressing his guests, "you have heard, be kind enough to excuse me for a few moments."
The officers rose and withdrew without any reply. The capataz was the last to go, after bending on the unknown one of those glances which ransack the depths of a man's heart. But this glance, like the count's, produced no effect on the stranger's cold, impassive face.
"Now, señor," said the count to the stranger, as soon as they were alone, "I am awaiting the fulfilment of your promise."
"I am ready to satisfy you."