"You will observe that I have not bothered with having your note discounted. I have fulfilled my part of the bargain; fulfil yours." The count thrust his trembling hands into his trousers pockets. He desired to hide this embarrassing sign from his accomplice. Annesley went to a small safe which stood at the left of the fireplace and returned with a packet somewhat bulkier than the count's. He dropped it beside the money, shudderingly, as though he had touched a poisonous viper. "My honor," he said simply. "I had never expected to sell it so cheap." There was a pause, during which neither man's gaze swerved from the other's. There was not the slightest, not even the remotest, fear of treachery; each man knew with whom he was dealing; yet there they stood, as if fascinated. One would have thought that the colonel would have counted his money, or Karloff his plans; they did neither. Perhaps the colonel wanted Karloff to touch the plans first, before he touched the money; perhaps Karloff had the same desire, only the other way around. [Illustration: "I am simply Miss Annesly's servant."--ACT III.] The colonel spoke. "I believe that is all" he said quietly. The knowledge that the deed was done and that there was no retreat gave back to him a particle of his former coolness and strength of mind. It had been the thought of committing the crime that had unnerved him. Now that his bridges were burned, a strange, unnatural calm settled on him. The count evidently was not done. He moistened his lips. There was a dryness in his throat. "It is not too late" he said; "I have not yet touched them." "We shall not indulge in moralizing, if you please," interrupted the colonel, with savage irony. "The moment for that has gone by." "Very well." Karloff's shoulders settled; his jaws became aggressively angular; some spirit of his predatory forebears touched his face here and there, hardening it. "I wish to speak in regard to your daughter." "Enough! Take my honor and be gone!" The colonel's voice was loud and rasping. Karloff rested his hands on the table and inclined his body toward the colonel. "Listen to me," he began. "There is in every man the making and the capacity of a great rascal. Time and opportunity alone are needed--and a motive. The other night I told you that I could not give up your daughter. Well, I have not given her up. She must be my wife." "Must?" The colonel clenched his hands. "Must. To-night I am going to prove myself a great rascal--with a great motive. What is Russia to me? Nothing. What is your dishonor or my own? Less than nothing. There is only one thing, and that is my love for your daughter." He struck the table and the flame of the student-lamp rose violently. "She must be mine, mine! I have tried to win her as an honorable man tries to win the woman he loves; now she must be won by an act of rascality. Heaven nor hell shall force me to give her up. Yes, I love her; and I lower myself to your level to gain her."