Surely I would have throttled him but for the intervention of the Count and the cavalrymen.

The Count swung his arm around my neck, while the cavalrymen, their sabre points at Hillars' breast, wrenched loose my hands.

I stood glaring at him, panting and furious.

He leaned against the table, gasping and coughing.

Finally he recovered his composure.
"Count, I was wrong; you were right.