“Well, so much the better,” said the supercargo; “for it is not pleasant to think that a comrade has not done his duty.”
“Dantès has done his,” replied the owner, “and that is not saying much. It was Captain Leclère who gave orders for this delay.”
“Talking of Captain Leclère, has not Dantès given you a letter from him?”
“To me?—no—was there one?”
“I believe that, besides the packet, Captain Leclère confided a letter to his care.”
“Of what packet are you speaking, Danglars?”
“Why, that which Dantès left at Porto-Ferrajo.”
“How do you know he had a packet to leave at Porto-Ferrajo?”
Danglars turned very red.
“I was passing close to the door of the captain’s cabin, which was half open, and I saw him give the packet and letter to Dantès.”
“He did not speak to me of it,” replied the shipowner; “but if there be any letter he will give it to me.”
Danglars reflected for a moment.
“Then, M. Morrel, I beg of you,” said he, “not to say a word to Dantès on the subject. I may have been mistaken.”
At this moment the young man returned; Danglars withdrew.
“Well, my dear Dantès, are you now free?” inquired the owner.
“Yes, sir.”