“It’s of particular interest to me, you see,” went on Julius with volubility. “Put yourself in my place. Last night, when I came back from the Questura, where I had been giving evidence, I found lying on the table in my room--on the very middle of my table--the railway ticket with which poor Fleurissoire had travelled. It had my name on it; I know those circular tickets are not transferable. Quite so; I did wrong to lend it--but that’s not the point. The very fact of bringing the ticket back to my room--seizing the opportunity to flout me cynically when I had gone out for a few minutes--constitutes a challenge--a piece of bravado--an insult almost--which (I need hardly say) would not disturb me in the least if I hadn’t good reason to suppose that I am threatened in my turn. I’ll tell you why. Your poor friend Fleurissoire was in possession of a secret--an abominable secret--a most dangerous secret--I didn’t question him about it--I had no desire to hear what it was, but he had the lamentable imprudence to confide it to me. And now I ask you again--do you know who the person is who actually went so far as to commit a murder for the purpose of stifling that secret? Do you know who he is?” “Don’t be alarmed, Monsieur le Comte; I gave his name to the police last night.” “Mademoiselle Carola, I expected no less of you.” “He had promised me not to hurt him; he had only to keep his promise and I would have kept mine. It’s more than I can stand! He may do what he likes to me--I don’t care!” Carola was growing more and more excited; Julius passed behind the table and, drawing near her again: “We should perhaps be able to talk more comfortably in my room.” “Oh, Monsieur le Comte,” said Carola, “I’ve told you everything I had to say; I mustn’t keep you any longer.” As she went on retreating, she completed the tour of the table and found herself near the door once more. “We had better part now, Mademoiselle,” said Julius virtuously and with the firm determination of appropriating the credit of this resistance. “Ah! I just wanted to add that if you mean to come to the funeral the day after to-morrow, it would be better not to recognise me.” At this they took leave of each other, without having once mentioned the name of the unsuspected Lafcadio. V