Most of all, of course, I thought about Laura. Many letters came from her, but she said very little in them. She told me she was well, but hardly mentioned her husband, and wrote not a word about Count Fosco, whom they had met in Austria, not Italy. I understood from her silence that she did not like him. All she said was that her Aunt Eleanor, Madame Fosco, was quieter and more sensible than she had used to be.

Six long, lonely months passed, and I had little to do but think of absent friends. I received a cheerful letter from Walter Hartright after he arrived in Honduras, and just before he set off with the expedition into the forest. Since then, I have heard nothing. There was no news of Anne Catherick or Mrs Clements. Poor Mr Gilmore fell very ill and had to give up work, but his business is continued by his partner, Mr Kyrle. Mrs Vesey has moved to London to live with her sister, and Mr Fairlie, I believe, is secretly delighted to have his house free of women.

On 11th June I arrived at Blackwater Park, Sir Percival's family home in Hampshire. The waiting was nearly over, and how happy I was! The next day Laura and her husband would return home, together with Count Fosco and his wife, who were going to spend the summer at Blackwater.

In the morning the housekeeper, Mrs Michelson, showed me round the house. It is very old, and much of it is dusty and unused; only one part of the enormous building is comfortable enough to live in.

Later I explored the gardens and the park. The gardens are small and not well kept, and there are so many trees that the house feels shut in by them. I found a path through the trees, which after half a mile brought me to a lake. It was a damp, lonely place. The still dark waters of the lake and the long shadows from the tall trees gave it a gloomy air. Near the lake there was an old boat-house with some seats in it, so I went in and sat down for a rest.

When she came in and saw the dog lying on the floor, she cried out at once, "Oh! That must be Mrs Catherick's dog!"

I am not a nervous person generally but when I heard the sound of quick breathing under my seat, I jumped to my feet in alarm. In fact, it was a dog -- a small black and white dog, with a bullet wound in its side. I carried the poor creature back to the house and sent for Mrs Michelson to help me.

"Whose?" I asked, amazed.

"Mrs Catherick's. Do you know her? She came here to ask for news of her daughter."

"When?"

"Yesterday. She'd heard that her daughter Anne had been seen in the neighbourhood. But no one knew anything. I suppose the dog ran away into the woods and got shot by the park-keeper."

I tried to make my voice sound politely interested. "I suppose you've known Mrs Catherick for some years?"

"Oh no, Miss Halcombe, I never saw her before. She lives at Welmingham, twenty-five miles away. I had heard of her, because of Sir Percival paying for her daughter to go to an asylum. But yesterday, Mrs Catherick asked me not to mention her visit to Sir Percival. That was an odd thing to say, wasn't it, Miss?"

Odd, indeed! But then we had to turn our attention to the poor dog, which, despite our efforts, died a little while later. It was a sad thing to happen on my first day at Blackwater.

Later that evening the travellers returned. After my first happiness at meeting Laura, I felt there was a strangeness between us and I realized she had changed. I was sure we would soon get back to normal, but she had lost her innocent openness. She was unwilling to talk about her married life, and I saw that there were no warm feelings between her husband and her. It wasn't long before she asked me about Walter -- "Have you heard from him? Is he well and happy?" -- and it was clear to me that she loved him as deeply as ever.

As for Sir Percival, his manners are sharper and less pleasant. On meeting me he simply said, "Hello, Miss Halcombe. Glad to see you again," -- and then walked past me. Little things seem to annoy him a great deal. For example, the housekeeper told him a man had called to speak to him a week ago but had left no name. Sir Percival demanded a description of the man, which poor Mrs Michelson was unable to give, and Sir Percival stormed out of the room in great anger.

And the man who has achieved this extraordinary change, the man who has tamed this wild Englishwoman? Yes, what can I say about the Count? He looks like a man who could tame anything. If he had married me, I would have made his cigarettes, as his wife does. I would have held my tongue when he looked at me, as she holds hers.

Laura was certainly right about Madame Fosco. Never have I seen such a change in a woman. As Eleanor Fairlie (aged thirty-seven), she wore bright clothes, was silly and foolish, and always talked nonsense. As Madame Fosco (aged forty-three), she wears only grey or black, and sits for hours in silence, doing needlework, rolling up cigarettes for the Count, or just looking at him with the eyes of a loyal dog.

And yet, and yet… He is fat, but moves lightly and easily, like a dancer. There is a calmness and a strength about his smooth, unlined face, and his voice is persuasive, gentle, hard to resist. His knowledge of the English language is perfect and he is a well-known expert in chemical science. He speaks in baby language to his white mice, but he talks with intelligence and charm about books in every language, and brings to his conversation experience of life in half the capitals of Europe.

How can I explain the power, the attraction, the force that comes from this man? There are many unlikeable or unattractive things about him. For example, he is enormously fat; he seems to have false hair; he is at least sixty years old. He is lazy, jumps at the slightest sudden sound, and has a peculiar fondness for pet animals. He has brought with him a variety of birds and a whole family of white mice, which he often kisses and calls loving names, just as a child might do.

But it is his eyes that I shall always remember -- his cold, clear, beautiful grey eyes, eyes which held such a frightening power that I shiver even now to think of it.

At lunchtime, a few days after they all returned, a man called Mr Merriman arrived, asking to see Sir Percival urgently. Sir Percival had clearly not expected the visit and looked both alarmed and angry as he left the table.

I could discover very little about his past from Sir Percival. I only learnt that he had not been to Italy for years; I wondered if this was for political reasons. It seemed he had saved Sir Percival from great danger in Rome once and they had been the closest of friends ever since. It was quite clear that Sir Percival was always anxious to please him and would never go against his wishes.

I wonder whether I am afraid of him too. I certainly never saw a man I would be more sorry to have as an enemy.

Neither Laura nor I had any idea who Mr Merriman was, but the Count told us he was Sir Percival's lawyer. I wondered what had happened, as a lawyer does not usually travel from London to Hampshire unless sent for. Mr Merriman must be the bringer of important news -- either good or bad.

Count Fosco obviously read my thoughts and said softly to me, "Yes, Miss Halcombe, something has happened."

"Yes, Sir Percival," I heard the lawyer say, "it all depends on Lady Glyde."

"You understand, Sir Percival, Lady Glyde must sign her name in the presence of two witnesses. If this is done in a week's time, everything will be all right. If not, I may be able to get them to accept a document promising payment in three months. But how that money is to be obtained by then…"

Later in the day I was coming from my room when I saw Sir Percival and his lawyer crossing the hall downstairs. They spoke quietly, but clearly enough for their words to reach my ears.

I immediately stopped when I heard Laura's name and, although I knew it was wrong, continued to listen.

They went into the library and I heard no more, but it seemed that Sir Percival had a serious debt and that the solution to it depended on Laura. I immediately went to tell Laura what I had heard. She did not seem surprised.

"I was afraid of something like this," she said, "when I heard about that strange gentleman who called, without leaving his name. He had probably come to ask for his money. But don't worry, Marian. I won't sign anything that I might later regret."

The next morning Sir Percival asked Count Fosco, Laura, and myself if we would go to the library for a minute after lunch for a small business matter. Before lunch, however, we all went for a walk to the lake, stopping at the boat-house for a rest.

"Wise men do not murder," said Laura, looking at him with dislike. "I am sure you cannot give me an example of a wise man who has been a criminal."

In the evening Sir Percival was unusually polite and pleasant to all of us. What did this mean? I thought I could guess -- I was afraid Laura could guess -- and I was sure Count Fosco knew. I saw Sir Percival looking at him for approval more than once during the evening. The Count was certainly aware of Sir Percival's financial problems.

"My dear Percival," the Count protested, "the water is too shallow to hide a body. Only a fool would murder someone here. A wise man would choose somewhere else."

"Some people call the lake pretty," said Sir Percival, pointing to the view. "I call it ugly. It looks just the place for a murder, doesn't it? What do you think, Fosco?"

"Percival," he said, "come here. Look at this in the sand. Blood!"

"Whose dog was it?" asked Sir Percival.

"My dear lady," said the Count, "it is impossible to give an example, because a wise man's crime is never found out."

As he spoke, he was playing with his white mice in their little cage, and suddenly noticed that one of them was missing. A few seconds later he found the little animal under a seat, but also found something which seemed to shock him.

Everyone seemed alarmed, so I had to explain about the wounded dog I had found.

"The housekeeper said it was Mrs Catherick's dog," I replied, remembering too late that the visit was meant to be kept secret.

This question came with such rudeness and anger that I turned away. Count Fosco laid his hand on Sir Percival's arm.

"My dear Percival! Gently, gently!"

"What the devil was Mrs Catherick doing here?"

To my great surprise, Sir Percival apologized to me, and Count Fosco then said, "Why not question the housekeeper, Percival, since she seems to know all about it?"

When we went back to the house, Sir Percival came to greet us. "I am sorry to say I have to leave you. I have to drive a long way and won't be back until tomorrow. First, though, I would like to finish that little business matter. Will you come into the library? It won't take a minute."

Handing a pen to Laura, he said, "Sign there. You and Fosco are to sign afterwards, Miss Halcombe."

The Count seemed fascinated by Mrs Catherick and wanted to know all about her visit. I tried to say as little as possible, but Laura asked questions too, and in the end the Count knew as much as we did about Mrs Catherick and her daughter Anne. I was quite sure, from his surprise at the story, that the Count had known nothing of Anne Catherick, and uneasily I wondered why Sir Percival had not told his closest friend.

Sir Percival took the point, and immediately left us to return to the house.

In the library he got a document out of a cupboard and put it on the table. It was folded in such a way that all the writing was hidden and only the places to sign were visible.

"All right, then," he said, "until tomorrow. Anyway, I have to go. But you will sign tomorrow or --" He gave his wife a cold, hard stare, then went out.

As Laura and I moved to the door, the Count approached us. "You have just seen Sir Percival at his worst," he said. "As his old friend, I apologize for him and promise he won't behave like that tomorrow."

"I see. So you're saying you don't trust me! Is that it? What kind of a wife is that?"

To help Laura, I said, "I am afraid I cannot be a witness if she doesn't understand what she is signing."

"What do you want me to sign?" Laura asked quietly.

"I have no time to explain. I have to leave. It's just business," he said angrily. "Women don't understand business. Just sign it."

But Laura had put the pen down and moved to my side.

Sir Percival turned to me furiously. "How dare you! You're a guest in my house and you take my wife's side against me!"

"Lady Glyde is right," the Count then said. "Let the signature wait until tomorrow."

Sir Percival swore at him, but moved away from the table.

"But surely I ought to know what I am signing."

"Control your unfortunate temper, Percival," said the Count, and I heard him whisper to him, "You idiot!"

Or perhaps…

I had begun to realize that I could not hope to remain at Blackwater Park now without the influence and support of the Count, so I answered by thanking him warmly. Then I led Laura out and took her up to my room for a rest.

While we were there, she told me how cruel Sir Percival had been to her since their marriage and how unhappy she was. I tried to calm her and to find a solution to the problem of the signature. Suddenly I had the idea of writing to Mr Gilmore's partner, Mr Kyrle, and asking for his advice. In my letter I also asked him to get a messenger to bring the reply by one o'clock the next day. I then put the letter in the post-bag in the hall. Just at that moment Madame Fosco appeared and asked to speak to me in the garden. She spoke to me for a full half-hour about how much sympathy she had for me. I found this very odd indeed since she had shown very little interest in me before.

When I finally returned, I saw the Count also putting a letter in the post-bag. For some reason I decided to check my letter was properly closed, so I got it out of the bag. This was lucky, as I found the envelope had come open. How strange, I thought. Perhaps there had been something wrong with it…

No! There could be no other explanation.