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But you look as if you knew it already, for your face is as white as your neckcloth.

I know not what you mean; but I expect to hear something very dreadful from the alarm of your manner. What concern have I in your tale? which you had better tell me quickly in as few words as may be. What has happened?

Your cousin, Baron Hartman, is murdered; the body has been found in a field, under the northern rampart.

Are you sure he is dead? The dagger, perhaps, has not gone so deep as you imagine; and he may but have fainted from loss of blood.

And how do you know, Sir, that it is a dagger which has given the wound?

I guess—I suppose—it is the common weapon of an assassin.

Did you mark that? I have my suspicions.