part Monte-Cristo had played in his enemy's fall and disgrace, and did

not deem it prudent to awaken the bitter recollections of the lurid and

dreadful past.

Mlle. d' Armilly also said nothing in reference to the reappearance of

Danglars, but it was very clear to the observant Zuleika that she

expected and dreaded further harm from Monte-Cristo's revengeful enemy.

At night she locked herself in her chamber, and, notwithstanding the

almost unbearable heat of the weather, securely closed and fastened all

her windows.

The Count himself was as reserved as ever, never once mentioning either

the midnight invasion of his mansion or the unexpected advent of his

most deadly foe. To everybody in the household he seemed either to have

forgotten or to have succeeded in dismissing from his mind those events

so fraught with excitement and possibilities of future disaster. But

Monte-Cristo, though he preserved an impassible exterior, had neither

forgotten nor dismissed them. He had simply applied to himself his own

famous maxim, "Wait and Hope." He was waiting and hoping for the best,

for God in His inscrutable wisdom to bring mysterious good out of

apparent evil.

Meanwhile Captain de Morcerf had been busily engaged in making thorough

but cautious investigations. He had formed the acquaintance of a former

Agent de la Surete, who had been of great use to him in describing the

various outlaws and prowlers of Paris, and in pointing out to him their

secret dens and the secluded places of rendezvous where they met, drank

vile liquors, and, under the maddening influence of absinthe and

alcohol, plotted their crimes and atrocities of every description. This

man, another Quasimodo in point of hideous aspect, had been dismissed

from the detective service because of his inability to keep sober, but

he had not forgotten the resources of his profession, and money lavishly

bestowed upon him made him Captain de Morcerf's most obedient and

faithful slave. Cash in hand rendered him indefatigable and the prospect

of obtaining more kept him discreet. He had taught his employer the art

of effectually disguising himself, of passing for a veritable zigue,

and, as he was well-known to the desperadoes he had formerly shadowed

and was welcomed by them as a sterling good fellow, he was enabled to

take the Captain with impunity among scoundrels who would not have

hesitated to cut his throat had they known who he was.

As Albert did not know what name Danglars had assumed and was unwilling

to give the ex-detective his true cognomen, the latter had nothing to

guide him in this respect. Neither was the Captain cognizant of the

changes that time and his mode of life had wrought in the former

banker's personal appearance, so he could only describe him as he had

looked in the years gone by. This afforded Mange, such was the name of

the dismissed policeman, no indication whatever by which he could

profit. He, nevertheless, was not disconcerted by the paucity of

information. He knew that young Morcerf was searching for a man who had

been one of the party engaged in the attempt to rob the Monte-Cristo

mansion on the Rue du Helder, and that knowledge was sufficient for him.

He very soon discovered that Waldmann, Siebecker, Bouche-de-Miel and two

Italians had formed that party, and Bouche-de-Miel being the only

Frenchman in the coterie he had no difficulty whatever in fixing upon

him as the individual wanted. He imparted his discovery and conclusion

to his employer, together with the intelligence that the men were in the

habit of congregating in the little caboulot of the Cite d' Antin.

Albert rewarded Mange liberally for his zeal and promised him a very

much larger sum should Bouche-de-Miel turn out to be his man. It was

immediately arranged that Mange should conduct the Captain to the

caboulot that very night and, if possible, bring him face to face with

the Frenchman supposed to be Danglars.

In accordance with this agreement, as soon as night had fallen, Mange

was waiting for his employer at the corner of the Rue Taitbout and the

Rue de Provence. He was not kept long at his post, for Albert speedily

made his appearance, dressed in a blouse like a workman; his rough

trousers were tucked in the tops of his dusty boots and on his head he

wore a battered slouch hat that looked as if it might have seen service

behind the revolutionary barricades. Mange surveyed him with a long

glance of admiration; then taking him to a neighboring street lamp, he

critically examined his face, which was stained to represent the

bronzing effect of the sun and smeared with dirt.

"Capital!" exclaimed the ex-detective, as he finished his scrutiny. "You

are a zigue out and out! Not a trace of the boulevardier to be seen! The

most keen-scented vache in the caboulot would be completely deceived!"

Albert smiled at his companion's enthusiasm.

"Well, as I pass examination," he said, "let us go on at once. Do you

think our man will be at the caboulot?"

"Do I think water will run down hill!" cried Mange, with a laugh that

resembled nothing so much as the discordant croak of a crow. "He never

misses a night, and this is the hour when the brandy begins to flow!"

Albert shuddered at this remark, suggesting as it did the certainty that

he would find Eugenie's father a sot as well as a thief. He, however,

took Mange's arm and together they strolled leisurely into the Cite d'

Antin, making their way to the caboulot without meeting a single

suspicious prowler.

They entered the front room where Bouche-de-Miel had found the

slatternly young woman reading her greasy copy of the Gazette des

Tribunaux on the morning preceding the attempted robbery. She was at her

accustomed place behind the counter, but was not reading; eight or ten

stalwart ruffians monopolized her attention and, as she furnished her

thirsty customers with the various fiery beverages they demanded, she

showered her most captivating glances right and left among them. She was

as slatternly as ever, but her hair was shining with bear's grease and a

strong odor of musk pervaded her garments; a paste diamond of enormous

size but of doubtful brilliancy ornamented her breastpin and on her

stumpy, grimy fingers were numerous brass rings containing dull

imitations of rubies, amethysts and topazes.

As the new comers came in, Waldmann, standing in front of the counter

with a bottle in one hand and a glass in the other, was chaffing her.

"See here, Beurre-Sans-Sel," he said, with a well-counterfeited air of

intense admiration, "you are looking like a real beauty to-night. I will

wager anything you expect a lover. I never saw you put on such style

before. I declare you far outshine the demoiselles of the public balls!"

"Oh! Monsieur Waldmann, how you talk!" returned the girl, with an

affected simper and an unsuccessful attempt to blush.

Just then the German looked around and caught sight of Mange, who was

looking his ugliest. The spirit of mischief was strong upon him and he

instantly cried out:

"I knew it; I knew you were expecting a lover and here he is promptly on

time! Come now own up, my little Beurre-Sans-Sel, did you not put on all

your pretty fixings for Mange?"

"For that ugly old gorilla!" exclaimed the girl, unceremoniously and

disdainfully. "I can get better-looking lovers than either a monkey or a

Swab, I'd have you to know, Monsieur Waldmann!"

There was a general laugh at this sally, and none laughed louder than

Mange, who had a taste for coarse jokes and sharp retorts.

"So!" said Waldmann, after the merriment had subsided. Then he perceived

Mange's companion for the first time. He examined him closely and

suspiciously. Albert did not shrink from his scrutiny, but the

ex-detective deemed it prudent to set matters right at the start by a

formal introduction of his employer; he, therefore, motioned to Albert

to follow him and walked up to the German, offering him his hand, which

the latter shook cordially.

The Captain now stood beside Waldmann in front of the counter and Mange

presented him without delay.

"Monsieur Waldmann," said he, "permit me to make you acquainted with my

friend Fouquier, from Dijon, a bon zigue."

"Monsieur Fouquier," said the German, taking Albert's outstretched hand,

"I am glad to know you, especially as you come so well recommended."

Mange bowed in acknowledgment of this little tribute to himself.

Morcerf replied that the pleasure was mutual.

Waldmann's suspicions seemed to be allayed.

"Take something," he said. "Here, Siebecker and Bouche-de-Miel, join us

in drinking the health of Monsieur Fouquier from Dijon!"

Albert was instantly on the alert and Mange watched him attentively as

the two individuals named emerged from a corner of the room and lounged

up to the counter. There was another presentation, a double one this

time, Waldmann doing the honors. Mange required no introduction.

Everybody appeared to know him. Beurre-Sans-Sel put forth brandy and

glasses, and the health of Monsieur Fouquier was drunk enthusiastically.

When this ceremony ended Morcerf called for cigarettes and distributed

them among the coterie; then he had leisure to examine Bouche-de-Miel;

the latter had turned his back to the counter and leaned his elbows upon

it; in this position, with his cigarette between his teeth, he looked

the perfect picture of vagabondish idleness. Mange was still watching

Morcerf, but saw no sign that he had recognized in Bouche-de-Miel the

man for whom he was seeking. This made him uneasy, for it was an

indication that the reward his employer had promised him would not be

earned.

Presently Waldmann and Siebecker were called to another part of the

room. Bouche-de-Miel remained, continuing to smoke his cigarette, with

his elbows on the counter where he had placed them after the

health-drinking. The Captain's thoughts were of a conflicting nature.

Everything pointed to the fact that the man before him was his

father-in-law, but, unlike Mlle. d' Armilly, he saw nothing in him

suggestive of the Baron Danglars of other days. Could this vagabond,

this wretch, be Danglars? If so, how was it to be proved to his

satisfaction? How, above all, in this place, in this den of thieves and

cutthroats? The man was certainly the party Eugenie had recognized on

the night of the attempted burglary as her father, the party

Monte-Cristo himself had so positively pronounced to be the former

banker. But was it not probable that his wife and the Count had been

mistaken? Was it not probable that they had been deceived by some

fancied resemblance when excitement had possessed them to such a degree

that it had deprived them of the full use of their mental faculties? At

any rate he had come to the caboulot to experiment with Bouche-de-Miel

and he would not shrink from cautiously applying the test.

Their cigarettes were now consumed. Albert, in pursuance of his scheme,

invited Bouche-de-Miel and Mange to take seats at a table and have some

more brandy. They accepted the invitation with alacrity, and the three

were soon drinking and chatting. Repeated potations finally opened

Bouche-de-Miel's lips; he began to be confidential.

"You may not believe me, messieurs," said he, "but I was not always as

you see me now!"

Mange winked triumphantly at his employer. Revelations which might be

important were coming. Perhaps he would yet earn the promised reward.

Morcerf was listening attentively.

"No, sacre nom d' un chien, I was not always a zigue! Once I had immense

wealth, I counted my money by millions! I had position, too, and I may

say without egotism that I was honored by the best people of Paris!"

He paused and drained another glass of brandy.

"What were you?" asked Mange.

Albert waited breathlessly for the answer to this question.

"What was I?" repeated Bouche-de-Miel. "You may laugh, but I was a

banker!"

Morcerf could not avoid giving a start. The vagabond, half-drunk as he

was, noticed it and asked:

"What is the matter with you, Fouquier? Do you think the lie so

tremendous that you can't keep still?"

The young man was glad to accept this interpretation of his behavior; he

touched his glass to his lips and said, with a forced smile:

"Well, I do think you are going it rather strong!"

"Not half strong enough, mon Dieu!" cried Bouche-de-Miel, bringing his

fist down on the table with such force that the glasses were nearly

knocked off. "Not half strong enough, I tell you, messieurs, for I was

a Baron as well as a banker!"

Albert groaned. Mange looked at him with sparkling eyes; he was now sure

that the promised money was within his reach, that his clutch would soon

close on it. His enforced sobriety since he had been in the Captain's

employ made him anxious for a prolonged, reckless spree, frightfully

anxious, and his guarded potations since he entered the caboulot had

whetted his devouring appetite for alcohol to such an extent that he

could scarcely keep it in subjection with the plentiful supply of brandy

on the table, almost at his very lips.

Bouche-de-Miel did not hear Morcerf's groan; his misty eyes were fixed

upon space, seemed to be peering into the depths and recesses of the

distant past. The Captain judged that the time had come to draw the

final, the crowning admission from his lips. He touched him lightly on

the arm. The man turned and glanced at him inquiringly. Morcerf's heart

beat wildly; it was with great difficulty that he kept his agitation

under control. He hurriedly scanned the other occupants of the

room--some were very drunk and stupid, others noisy and demonstrative,

but all were too busy with their own concerns and pleasures to pay even

the slightest attention to the little party at the table; Waldmann and

Siebecker were asleep on opposite ends of a bench in a corner.

Bouche-de-Miel had meanwhile relapsed into his misty reverie. Albert

touched his arm again.

"Don't bother me!" said the man, impatiently, without removing his eyes

from space. "Can't you let a fellow dream!"

"Baron Danglars!" whispered Morcerf in his ear.

"Eh? What?" cried Bouche-de-Miel, coming back to reality with a start,

half-sobered by hearing this name.

"Baron Danglars," repeated the Captain, in a guarded undertone, "I know

you!"

The man got upon his feet lumberingly and unsteadily; he clutched

Albert's shoulder convulsively.

"You are an Agent de la Surete!" he hissed. "You have come here to

arrest me!"

The attention of some of the less intoxicated ruffians was being excited

by Bouche-de-Miel's behavior, but their ears had failed to seize his

words amid the prevailing din. Mange, with his usual keenness and

quickness, saw that something must instantly be done to quiet Albert's

companion or all the miscreants who could stir would be aroused and come

thronging about them to throttle the supposed Agent de la Surete. He,

therefore, gave a loud laugh and said to Bouche-de-Miel:

"Don't be a fool, old man! Monsieur Fouquier belong to la rousse! That's

a good joke! ha! ha! Why he is as much in danger of the violon as you

are! ha! ha!"

He arose, still laughing, and, playfully taking Bouche-de-Miel by the

collar, gently forced him back into his chair. As he did so, he glanced

at Beurre-Sans-Sel. The slatternly young woman had her hand on the screw

of the huge lamp suspended above the counter, by which alone the room

was lighted, ready to turn it out and leave the whole place in darkness

at the first alarm. She was evidently accustomed to police descents and

knew how to act in such cases. Mange's words and merriment, however,

reassured her and she withdrew her fingers from the screw.

But Bouche-de-Miel was not altogether satisfied. He sat uneasily in his

chair, facing Morcerf and anxiously scanning his countenance.

"What did you mean by calling me Baron Danglars and saying that you knew

me?" he asked, in a low, somewhat tremulous voice.

Instead of replying directly to this question, the young man said,

slowly and in a half-whisper:

"I am Albert de Morcerf, the husband of your daughter Eugenie!"

"What!" exclaimed Bouche-de-Miel. "Eugenie married--and to you!"

"Yes," said the Captain, "Fate has again brought us together after a

long and painful separation."

"I saw Eugenie in the house of the Count of Monte-Cristo, no matter how,

no matter when. What was she doing there?"

"Monte-Cristo is married to my mother, Mercedes, and we are living with

him."

"Living with him--Eugenie, my daughter, living beneath the roof of the

man who ruined her father and made him what he is!"

Bouche-de-Miel grew absolutely livid with rage; he was entirely sobered

now and all his evil instincts had full possession of him.

"I will never forgive her--or you!" he hissed.

"Listen to me," said Albert, with comparative calmness. "I have come

here to-night at the risk of my life to offer you money, the means of

rehabilitation. Be advised. Leave these miscreants with whom you are

associated and become a man again!"

"I reject both your offer and advice!" said Bouche-de-Miel, excitedly.

"They are insults, coming as they do from the stepson of Monte-Cristo,

my relentless enemy! But I will have vengeance upon you for them and

through you on Edmond Dantes! Ho, Waldmann Siebecker!"

The two Germans awoke, sprang from their bench and advanced towards the

table.

Mange uttered a groan of despair. He could do nothing now to avert the

impending danger.

Bouche-de-Miel had leaped to his feet and grappled with Albert de

Morcerf. Waldmann and Siebecker, realizing that something was wrong and

at once connecting the alleged Monsieur Fouquier with it, drew long,

keen-bladed knives as they rushed forward.

All the thieves and marauders who were sober enough to stand were now on

their feet, ready to hurl themselves upon the suspected man. Weapons

flashed in every direction--daggers, knives and pistols. Loud oaths and

abusive epithets were heard on all sides; it was a perfect pandemonium,

a babel of evil sounds.

Amid all the confusion and danger Mange's self-possession did not desert

him. Seeing that it was useless to attempt to pacify the surging pack of

desperadoes, he determined upon a bold measure, one that would enable

him to save Captain de Morcerf and, at the same time, keep up his

reputation with the criminal frequenters of the caboulot, with whom he

desired for reasons of his own to be on good terms. He ran to the

counter, where Beurre-Sans-Sel already had her hand on the screw of the

hanging lamp, waiting for events to decide what action she should take.

He leaned over the counter and whispered to the girl:

"Beurre-Sans-Sel, I was deceived in Monsieur Fouquier. He imposed upon

me. He told me he was from Dijon. He turns out to be a Parisian and an

Agent de la Surete. He has betrayed himself. More Agents are coming!

They will be here in a moment! Put off the light!"

The girl did not hesitate a second; she gave the screw a quick twist and

the caboulot was instantly as dark as a tomb.

Having executed this manoeuvre, Mange sprang to Albert de Morcerf's

side, striking Bouche-de-Miel a crushing blow in the face that caused

him to lose his grip of the young man. Then, seizing his employer in his

brawny arms, he lifted him as if he had been a child and ran with him to

the front door; this he opened, leaping into the street with his burden.

"Now run for your life!" he exclaimed, depositing the young man on the

sidewalk.

With this he started off at a tearing pace, closely followed by Morcerf.

They did not pause until they had reached the Rue de Provence, where, in

the blaze of the lights, amid the throngs of honest citizens, they were

safe.