“You mean Monsieur Zaccone, I presume?”
“Zaccone?—is not his name Monte Cristo?”
“Monte Cristo is the name of an estate, or, rather, of a rock, and not a family name.”
“Well, be it so—let us not dispute about words; and since M. de Monte Cristo and M. Zaccone are the same—”
“Absolutely the same.”
“Let us speak of M. Zaccone.”
“Agreed.”
“I asked you if you knew him?”
“Extremely well.”
“Who is he?”
“The son of a rich shipbuilder in Malta.”
“I know that is the report; but, as you are aware, the police does not content itself with vague reports.”
“However,” replied the abbé, with an affable smile, “when that report is in accordance with the truth, everybody must believe it, the police as well as all the rest.”
“Are you sure of what you assert?”
“What do you mean by that question?”
“Understand, sir, I do not in the least suspect your veracity; I ask if you are certain of it?”