"Since you wouldn't give me that letter," pursued Jack, acknowledging the compliment with a grin and a bow, "perhaps you'll be willing to exchange it." "Exchange eet?" repeated the Hungarian. "For what weell eet be exchange'?" Jack produced Barnstable's letter. "I thought that you'd perhaps be willing to exchange it for this letter that's otherwise to be read and passed about. I fancy that the person who got it had Miss Wentstile particularly in mind as likely to be interested in it." The touch showed Jack to be not without some of the astuteness of his mother. "What weell eet be?" inquired the Count. "I haven't read it," answered Jack, slowly drawing it from the envelope. "It is said to contain a full account of the life of Count Shimbowski." "_Sacré!_" "Exactly," acquiesced Jack. "It's a devilish shame that things can't be forgotten when they're done. I've found that out myself." "But what weell be weetheen dat lettaire?" Jack ran his eye down a page. "This seems to be an account of a duel at Monaco," he returned. "On the next page--" The Count stretched out his hand in protest. "Eet ees not needed dat you eet to read," he said. "Eet ees leeklie lees." "Oh, very likely it is lies. No story about a fellow is ever told right; but the worst things always get believed; and Miss Wentstile is very particular. She's deucedly down on me for a lot of things that never happened." "Oh, but she ees extr'ordeenaire particle!" exclaimed the Count, with a shrug and a profane expletive. "She does not allow dat money be play for de card, she have say eet to me. She ees most extr'ordeenaire particle!" "Then I am probably right, Count, in thinking you wouldn't care to have her read this letter?" The Count twisted his silky mustache, looking both angry and rather foolish. "Eet ees not dat eet ees mooch dat I have done," he explained. "You know what eet ees de leefe. A man leeves one way. But she, she ees so particle damned!" Jack burst into a laugh that for the moment threatened to destroy the gravity with which he was conducting the interview; but he controlled his face, and went on. "Since she is so damned particular," said he, "don't you think you'd better let me have the other letter for this? Of course I hate to drive you to a bargain, but I must have that other letter. I don't mind telling you that I'm sent after it by the one who wrote it." "Den you weell know who have wrote eet?" "Yes, of course I know, but I'm not going to tell." The Count considered for a moment, and then slowly drew out the letter addressed to Christopher Calumus. He looked at it wistfully, with the air of a man who is reluctantly abandoning the clue to an adventure which might have proved enchanting. "But eet weell look what I was one great villaine dat fear," he said.