“Yes,” said Danglars, “but I confess I didn’t quite comprehend its meaning.”
“Indeed?”
“And for that reason I did myself the honor of calling upon you, in order to beg for an explanation.”
“Go on, monsieur. Here I am, ready to give you any explanation you desire.”
“Why,” said Danglars, “in the letter—I believe I have it about me”—here he felt in his breast-pocket—“yes, here it is. Well, this letter gives the Count of Monte Cristo unlimited credit on our house.”
“Well, baron, what is there difficult to understand about that?”
“Merely the term unlimited—nothing else, certainly.”
“Is not that word known in France? The people who wrote are Anglo-Germans, you know.”
“Oh, as for the composition of the letter, there is nothing to be said; but as regards the competency of the document, I certainly have doubts.”
“Is it possible?” asked the count, assuming all air and tone of the utmost simplicity and candor. “Is it possible that Thomson & French are not looked upon as safe and solvent bankers? Pray tell me what you think, baron, for I feel uneasy, I can assure you, having some considerable property in their hands.”
“Thomson & French are perfectly solvent,” replied Danglars, with an almost mocking smile; “but the word unlimited, in financial affairs, is so extremely vague.”
“Is, in fact, unlimited,” said Monte Cristo.
“Precisely what I was about to say,” cried Danglars. “Now what is vague is doubtful; and it was a wise man who said, ‘when in doubt, keep out.’”