“As a matter of fact,” said Monte Cristo, approaching, “I am much afraid that I am the involuntary cause of his absence.”

“What, you, count?” said Madame Danglars, signing; “if you are, take care, for I shall never forgive you.”

Andrea pricked up his ears.

“But it is not my fault, as I shall endeavor to prove.”

Everyone listened eagerly; Monte Cristo who so rarely opened his lips, was about to speak.

“You remember,” said the count, during the most profound silence, “that the unhappy wretch who came to rob me died at my house; the supposition is that he was stabbed by his accomplice, on attempting to leave it.”

“Yes,” said Danglars.