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Behold the cause, in my heart behold, in the image of Marian Halcombe, the first and last weakness of Fosco's life! At the ripe age of sixty, I make this unparalleled confession. Youths! I invoke your sympathy. Maidens! I claim your tears. My own mental insight informs me that three inevitable questions will be asked here by persons of inquiring minds. They shall be stated they shall be answered.
"Well, Percival," he said, "and in the case of Lady Glyde's death, what do you get then?" "If she leaves no children " "Which she is likely to do?" "Which she is not in the least likely to do " "Yes?" "Why, then I get her twenty thousand pounds." "Paid down?" "Paid down." They were silent once more. As their voices ceased Madame Fosco's shadow darkened the blind again.
If a fool was going to commit a murder, your lake is the first place he would choose for it. If a wise man was going to commit a murder, your lake is the last place he would choose for it. Is that your meaning? If it is, there is your explanation for you ready made. Take it, Percival, with your good Fosco's blessing."
This person introduced himself as another friend of Count Fosco's, and he, in his turn, looked at her very oddly, and asked some curious questions never, as well as she could remember, addressing her by name, and going out again, after a little while, like the first man.
It is not creditable to my penetration as the sequel will show to acknowledge this, but I am a naturally candid man, and I DO acknowledge it notwithstanding. "Allow me to present myself, Mr. Fairlie," he said. "I come from Blackwater Park, and I have the honour and the happiness of being Madame Fosco's husband.
"It is Fosco's fault, Miss Halcombe, not mine. He has started some nonsensical objection to his wife being one of the witnesses, and has obliged me to ask you to join us in the library." I entered the room immediately with Sir Percival. Laura was waiting by the writing-table, twisting and turning her garden hat uneasily in her hands.
The strangeness and peril of my situation, the dread, which I could not master, of Madame Fosco's lighted window, made it difficult, almost impossible, for me, at first, to keep my presence of mind, and to fix my attention solely on the conversation beneath. For some minutes I could only succeed in gathering the general substance of it.
"It means," he answered, "that Miss Halcombe was strong enough yesterday morning to sit up and be dressed, and that she insisted on taking advantage of Fosco's going to London to go there too." "To London!" "Yes on her way to Limmeridge." Lady Glyde turned and appealed to me. "You saw Miss Halcombe last," she said. "Tell me plainly, Mrs. Michelson, did you think she looked fit to travel?"
The count had also been a member of the society, and had betrayed its secret. Hence his terror of seeing Pesca. I immediately made use of the weapon that had been placed in my hand. I went boldly to Fosco's house, and offered to effect his escape from England in return for a full confession of his share in the abduction of Lady Glyde.
In less than one minute of time he was so altered from the easy, lively, quaint little man of all my past experience, that if I had met him in the street, changed as I saw him now, I should most certainly not have known him again. "Forgive me, if I have unintentionally pained and shocked you," I replied. "Remember the cruel wrong my wife has suffered at Count Fosco's hands.
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