Giraldi had stood leaning against the door-post, lost in his bloodthirsty fancies as in a dream, looking with fixed eyes upon the throng, without seeing anything. Suddenly he started. There in front of him, only separated by the width of the room, was Ottomar. He was talking to one or two other officers, and still had his back to him. He could still get away through the door against which he was leaning into the next room, and out of the house. That would be best. After all his arrangements were made, the manager might give up the stage to his puppets. What need was there of a dagger in this domestic drama? A few dishonoured bills, a good deal of gossip, truth cunningly mixed with falsehood and cleverly insinuated in society, and the wished-for result could not be long in coming, even if one or other of the wires failed in its effect. "To be too busy is some danger," as Hamlet says over the body of Polonius. And Giraldi slipped back into the room from which he had come, and, passing through some side-rooms and down the brilliantly-lighted marble staircase, gained the vestibule and cloak-room. Some guests were still arriving--a few ladies who to judge from their remarks, had been kept late in the ballet, and an elderly gentleman, who took off his fur coat whilst the servant was helping Giraldi on with his. The Italian hastily turned up his collar, but the other had already recognised him, and stopped him as he was going. "What, Signor Giraldi! Are you going already?" "I am tired to death, Councillor, and the heat and noise upstairs are amazing." "I have already been three times to-day to your house in vain. I must talk to you at least for a moment. What do you think of it, my dear friend--what do you think of it?" "Of what?" The Councillor almost let his crush-hat fall. "Of what? Good heavens! Is it possible to talk about anything to-day except this abominable speech?" "It appears not," said Giraldi. "Every other man and every fourth lady is talking about it upstairs. Fortunately it does not concern me." "Not directly," said the Councillor eagerly, "but indirectly. How clever you have been again. The only man who would not hear of a postponement of the date of payment of the second half of the purchase-money. You were only too right. The Count is ruined. He will never pay the second half." "One must reconcile oneself to the inevitable." "Very philosophical! But indeed with your genius for finance, you will soon make up for it. I only heard to-day that you--I presume on the part of the Baroness, but it is the same thing--had lent the Count the half million with which he----" Giraldi's brows met together like a thundercloud. "Had the Count been talking--against his word of honour?"