"I know you are not rich," said the pretended secretary, "and—"
Anselmo made a threatening gesture, but Benedetto continued:
"I was at this window for some time. Count Vellini's house is next door to this, and I had no difficulty in getting here. I saw you counting your secret treasure, and consequently—"
Unconsciously Anselmo glanced at the portfolio which lay on the table. Benedetto noticed it and laughed maliciously.
"Yes, there lies your fortune," he said contemptuously. "The lean bank-notes you counted a little while ago will not keep you long above board."
"But I have not asked for anything," murmured Anselmo.
"I offer you a price."
Benedetto drew an elegant portfolio from his pocket, and took ten thousand-franc notes out of it which he laid upon the table. "Finish and sign the paper I dictated," he coldly said, "and the money is yours."
Anselmo grew pale. Did Benedetto know of his troubles? Had he read his thoughts?