contraband.”
“But how could he have done so without your knowledge, Danglars, since you are the ship’s supercargo?”
“Why, as for that, I could only know what I was told respecting the merchandise with which the vessel was laden. I know she was loaded with cotton, and that she took in her freight at Alexandria from Pastret’s warehouse, and at Smyrna from Pascal’s; that is all I was obliged to know, and I beg I may not be asked for any further particulars.”
“Now I recollect,” said the afflicted old father; “my poor boy told me yesterday he had got a small case of coffee, and another of tobacco for me!”
“There, you see,” exclaimed Danglars. “Now the mischief is out; depend upon it the customhouse people went rummaging about the ship in our absence, and discovered poor Dantès’ hidden treasures.”
Mercédès, however, paid no heed to this explanation of her lover’s arrest. Her grief, which she had hitherto tried to restrain, now burst out in a violent fit of hysterical sobbing.
“Come, come,” said the old man, “be comforted, my poor child; there is still hope!”
“Hope!” repeated Danglars.
“Hope!” faintly murmured Fernand, but the word seemed to die away on his pale agitated lips, and a convulsive spasm passed over his countenance.
“Good news! good news!” shouted forth one of the party stationed in the balcony on the lookout. “Here comes M. Morrel back. No doubt, now, we shall hear that our friend is released!”