“Look here,” he cried, suddenly leaping from his chair and shaking his forefinger in ray face, “do you pretend to deny that months and months ago I told you what my feelings were with respect to Miss Rossano?” “You told me,” I answered, “that you admired her, and that she had a very pretty little income of her own. You coupled those two facts together in such a way as to make me think you were ready to contract a mercenary marriage.” “That's how you choose to put it,” he retorted. “I could have supposed, without your help, that you'd find some such means of justifying yourself. Your affection has nothing mercenary in it, of course. In that respect you're above suspicion. A mountebank soldier with a wooden sword to sell that nobody chooses to buy. A strolling pauper without a penny to his name.” I don't quite like to think of what might have happened if this strain of invective had not been interrupted at that moment. I know now, and I almost knew then, what ground Brunow had for his anger and resentment. But the words he used were almost too much for my endurance, and I was glad that a ring sounded at the hall bell, and that Hinge, who, I have no doubt at all, was listening outside, answered immediately. I heard a muffled voice outside, and then Hinge knocked at the inner door; and having in vain tried the handle, said: “The Conte di Rossano, if you please.” CHAPTER X I drew the key from my pocket, unlocked the door, and admitted the count, who stood for an instant on the threshold, looking from me to Brunow and from Brunow to me with an aspect of some considerable amazement. Hinge was gaping in the passage, and it was evident that he was more interested in the proceedings than he knew himself to have the right to be; for, encountering my eye, he withdrew his own instantly, and plunged with great precipitation out of sight. “Come in, sir,” I said to the count; and he entered, closing the door behind him, and still looking from Brunow to myself and back again with an aspect of complete surprise strongly mingled with displeasure. “I had not expected to find Mr. Brunow here.” This told me, or seemed to tell me at once, that Brunow had but recently left the count, and my conjecture turned out in a moment to be true. “I have repeated to Captain Fyffe, sir,” said Brunow, “what I told you less than half an hour ago.” “Then,” said the count, “you have repeated to Captain Fyffe what I emphatically denied to you. That, sir, is a refusal of my plighted word.” His meagre figure was drawn to its full height, he threw his head back, and his deep-sunken eyes flashed with indignation. “I have told this fellow,” cried Brunow, “that he has betrayed my confidence--the most sacred confidence one man can repose in another--a confidence I extended to him, believing him to be a man of honor and my friend.”