nt of entering an
indignant protest.

'You acknowledge that you have not read the later scenes of the piece,'
he said. 'Don't be childish, Henry! If you persist in pinning your
faith on such stuff as this, the least you can do is to make yourself
thoroughly acquainted with it. Will you read the Third Act? No? Then
I shall read it to you.'

He turned to the Third Act, and ran over those fragmentary passages
which were clearly enough written and expressed to be intelligible to
the mind of a stranger.

'Here is a scene in the vaults of the palace,' he began. 'The victim
of the conspiracy is sleeping on his miserable bed; and the Baron and
the Countess are considering the position in which they stand. The
Countess (as well as I can make it out) has raised the money that is
wanted by borrowing on the security of her jewels at Frankfort; and the
Courier upstairs is still declared by the Doctor to have a chance of
recovery. What are the conspirators to do, if the man does recover?
The cautious Baron suggests setting the prisoner free. If he ventures
to appeal to the law, it is easy to declare that he is subject to
insane delusion, and to call his own wife as witness. On the other
hand, if the Courier dies, how is the sequestrated and unknown nobleman
to be put out of the way? Passively, by letting him starve in his
prison? No: the Baron is a man of refined tastes; he dislikes
needless cruelty. The active policy remains--say, assassination by the
knife of a hired bravo? The Baron objects to trusting an accomplice;
also to spending money on anyone but himself. Shall they drop their
prisoner into the canal? The Baron declines to trust water; water will
show him on the surface. Shall they set his bed on fire? An excellent
idea; but the smoke might be seen. No: the circumstances being now
entirely altered, poisoning him presents the easiest way out of it. He
has simply become a superfluous person. The cheapest poison will
do.--Is it possible, Henry, that you believe this consultation really
took place?'

Henry made no reply. The succession of the questions that had just
been read to him, exactly followed the succession of the dreams that
had terrified Mrs. Norbury, on the two nights which she had passed in
the hotel. It was useless to point out this coincidence to his
brother. He only said, 'Go on.'

Lord Montbarry turned the pages until he came to the next intelligible
passage.

'Here,' he proceeded, 'is a double scene on