At this moment the abbé pressed down his side of the shade and so raised it on the other, throwing a bright light on the stranger’s face, while his own remained obscured.

“Excuse me, abbé,” said the envoy of the prefect of the police, “but the light tries my eyes very much.” The abbé lowered the shade.

“Now, sir, I am listening⁠—go on.”

“I will come at once to the point. Do you know the Count of Monte Cristo?”

“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.”