“Not at all. It is not of him that I am now thinking. I was going to ask you if you had received any news of Monsieur Franz.”
“Yes,—yesterday.”
“What did he tell you?”
“That he was leaving at the same time as his letter.”
“Well, now then, the count?”
“The count will come, of that you may be satisfied.”
“You know that he has another name besides Monte Cristo?”
“No, I did not know it.”
“Monte Cristo is the name of an island, and he has a family name.”
“I never heard it.”
“Well, then, I am better informed than you; his name is Zaccone.”
“It is possible.”
“He is a Maltese.”
“That is also possible.
“The son of a shipowner.”
“Really, you should relate all this aloud, you would have the greatest success.”
“He served in India, discovered a mine in Thessaly, and comes to Paris to establish a mineral water-cure at Auteuil.”
“Well, I’m sure,” said Morcerf, “this is indeed news! Am I allowed to repeat it?”
“Yes, but cautiously, tell one thing at a time, and do not say I told you.”
“Why so?”
“Because it is a secret just discovered.”
“By whom?”
“The police.”
“Then the news originated——”
“At the prefect’s last night. Paris, you can understand, is astonished at the sight of such unusual splendor, and the police have made inquiries.”
“Well, well! Nothing more is wanting than to arrest the count as a vagabond, on the pretext of his being too rich.”