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a few moments the old weak smile appeared on his benevolent face。
〃Why？〃 But the look of interrogation was succeeded by a hopeless
blankness。
〃Why！〃 I repeated with assuring accents。
〃Why；〃 he said； a gleam of intelligence flickering over his face； 〃is
yonder moon； as she sails in the blue empyrean； casting a flood of light
o'er hill and dale； like Why；〃 he repeated； with a feeble smile； 〃is yonder
moon； as she sails in the blue empyrean〃 He hesitated；stammered；and
gazed at me hopelessly； with the tears dripping from his moist and widely
opened eyes。
I took his hand kindly in my own。 〃Casting a shadow o'er hill and
dale；〃 I repeated quietly； leading him up the subject； 〃like Come； now。〃
〃Ah！〃 he said； pressing my hand tremulously； 〃you know it？〃
〃I do。 Why is it liketheehthe commodious mansion on the
Limehouse Road？〃
A blank stare only followed。 He shook his head sadly。 〃Like the young
men wanted for a light； genteel employment？〃
He wagged his feeble old head cunningly。
〃Or； Mr。 Ward；〃 I said； with bold confidence； 〃like the mysterious
disappearance from the Kent Road？〃
The moment was full of suspense。 He did not seem to hear me。
Suddenly he turned。
〃Ha！〃
I darted forward。 But he had vanished in the darkness。
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CHAPTER III。
NO。 27 LIMEHOUSE ROAD。
It was a hot midsummer evening。 Limehouse Road was deserted save
by dust and a few rattling butchers' carts； and the bell of the muffin and
crumpet man。 A commodious mansion； which stood on the right of the
road as you enter Pultneyville； surrounded by stately poplars and a high
fence surmounted by a chevaux de frise of broken glass； looked to the
passing and footsore pedestrian like the genius of seclusion and solitude。 A
bill announcing in the usual terms that the house was to let； hung from the
bell at the servants' entrance。
As the shades of evening closed； and the long shadows of the poplars
stretched across the road； a man carrying a small kettle stopped and gazed；
first at the bill and then at the house。 When he had reached the corner of
the fence； he again stopped and looked cautiously up and down the road。
Apparently satisfied with the result of his scrutiny； he deliberately sat
himself down in the dark shadow of the fence； and at once busied himself
in some employment； so well concealed as to be invisible to the gaze of
passers…by。 At the end of an hour he retired cautiously。
But not altogether unseen。 A slim young man； with spectacles and
note…book； stepped from behind a tree as the retreating figure of the
intruder was lost in the twilight； and transferred from the fence to his note…
book the freshly stencilled inscription； 〃ST 1860X。〃
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CHAPTER IV。
COUNT MOSCOW'S NARRATIVE。
I am a foreigner。 Observe！ To be a foreigner in England is to be
mysterious； suspicious； intriguing。 M。 Collins has requested the history of
my complicity with certain occurrences。 It is nothing； bah！ absolutely
nothing。
I write with ease and fluency。 Why should I not write？ Tra la la？ I am
what you English call corpulent。 Ha； ha！ I am a pupil of Macchiavelli。 I
find it much better to disbelieve everything； and to approach my subject
and wishes circuitously； than in a direct manner。 You have observed that
playful animal； the cat。 Call it； and it does not come to you directly； but
rubs itself against all the furniture in the room； and reaches you finally
and scratches。 Ah； ha； scratches！ I am of the feline species。 People call me
a villainbah！
I know the family； living No。 27 Limehouse Road。 I respect the
gentleman；a fine； burly specimen of your Englishman；and madame；
charming； ravishing； delightful。 When it became known to me that they
designed to let their delightful residence； and visit foreign shores； I at once
called upon them。 I kissed the hand of madame。 I embraced the great
Englishman。 Madame blushed slightly。 The great Englishman shook my
hand like a mastiff。
I began in that dexterous； insinuating manner； of which I am truly
proud。 I thought madame was ill。 Ah； no。 A change； then； was all that was
required。 I sat down at the piano and sang。 In a few minutes madame
retired。 I was alone with my friend。
Seizing his hand； I began with every demonstration of courteous
sympathy。 I do not repeat my words； for my intention was conveyed more
in accent； emphasis； and manner； than speech。 I hinted to him that he had
another wife living。 I suggested that this was balancedha！by his wife's
lover。 That； possibly； he wished to fly； hence the letting of his delightful
mansion。 That he regularly and systematically beat his wife in the English
manner； and that she repeatedly deceived me。 I talked of hope； of
consolation； of remedy。 I carelessly produced a bottle of strychnine and a
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small vial of stramonium from my pocket； and enlarged on the efficiency
of drugs。 His face； which had gradually become convulsed； suddenly
became fixed with a frightful expression。 He started to his feet； and roared：
〃You dd Frenchman！〃
I instantly changed my tactics； and endeavored to embrace him。 He
kicked me twice； violently。 I begged permission to kiss madame's hand。
He replied by throwing me down stairs。
I am in bed with my head bound up； and beef…steaks upon my eyes；
but still confident and buoyant。 I have not lost faith in Macchiavelli。 Tra la
la！ as they sing in the opera。 I kiss everybody's hands。
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CHAPTER V。
DR。 DIGGS'S STATEMENT。
My name is David Diggs。 I am a surgeon； living at No。 9 Tottenham
Cou