inform me what you have discovered concerning him and the conspiracy.”
“We know nothing as yet of the conspiracy, monsieur; all the papers found have been sealed up and placed on your desk. The prisoner himself is named Edmond Dantès, mate on board the three-master the Pharaon , trading in cotton with Alexandria and Smyrna, and belonging to Morrel & Son, of Marseilles.”
“Before he entered the merchant service, had he ever served in the marines?”
“Oh, no, monsieur, he is very young.”
“How old?”
“Nineteen or twenty at the most.”
At this moment, and as Villefort had arrived at the corner of the Rue des Conseils, a man, who seemed to have been waiting for him, approached; it was M. Morrel.
“Ah, M. de Villefort,” cried he, “I am delighted to see you. Some of your people have committed the strangest mistake—they have just arrested Edmond Dantès, mate of my vessel.”
“I know it, monsieur,” replied Villefort, “and I am now going to examine him.”
“Oh,” said Morrel, carried away by his friendship, “you do not know him, and I do. He is the most estimable, the most trustworthy creature in the world, and I will venture to say, there is not a better seaman in all the merchant service. Oh, M. de Villefort, I beseech your indulgence for him.”