replies. "But
wait and hear something that I have to say to you first." She then
electrifies the Baron by communicating her idea to him. What danger of
discovery have they to dread? My Lord's life in Venice has been a life
of absolute seclusion: nobody but his banker knows him, even by
personal appearance. He has presented his letter of credit as a
perfect stranger; and he and his banker have never seen each other
since that first visit. He has given no parties, and gone to no
parties. On the few occasions when he has hired a gondola or taken a
walk, he has always been alone. Thanks to the atrocious suspicion
which makes him ashamed of being seen with his wife, he has led the
very life which makes the proposed enterprise easy of accomplishment.

'The cautious Baron listens--but gives no positive opinion, as yet.
"See what you can do with the Courier," he says; "and I will decide
when I hear the result. One valuable hint I may give you before you
go. Your man is easily tempted by money--if you only offer him enough.
The other day, I asked him, in jest, what he would do for a thousand
pounds. He answered, 'Anything.' Bear that in mind; and offer your
highest bid without bargaining."

'The scene changes to the Courier's room, and shows the poor wretch
with a photographic portrait of his wife in his hand, crying. The
Countess enters.

'She wisely begins by sympathising with her contemplated accomplice.
He is duly grateful; he confides his sorrows to his gracious mistress.
Now that he believes himself to be on his death-bed, he feels remorse
for his neglectful treatment of his wife. He could resign himself to
die; but despair overpowers him when he remembers that he has saved no
money, and that he will leave his widow, without resources, to the
mercy of the world.

'On this hint, the Countess speaks. "Suppose you were asked to do a
perfectly easy thing," she says; "and suppose you were rewarded for
doing it by a present of a thousand pounds, as a legacy for your widow?"

'The Courier raises himself on his pillow, and looks at the Countess
with an expression of incredulous surprise. She can hardly be cruel
enough (he thinks) to joke with a man in his miserable plight. Will
she say plainly what this perfectly easy thing is, the doing of which
will meet with such a magnificent reward?

'The Countess answers that question by confiding her project to the
Courier, without the slightest reserve.

'Some minutes of silence