"That depends. Who is the party?"

"Our friend, Albert de Morcerf."

"That is worth listening to: how is the poor fellow getting along?"

"Oh, splendidly! He distinguishes himself in every battle, and will one day become a famous general."

"I hope so. Do you still recollect the hard times poor Morcerf had when the first article from Yanina appeared in your paper?"

"I do. I went myself on the strength of it to Yanina, and the news I brought from there was perfectly crushing from our old friend."

"And Count Monte-Cristo has disappeared?"

"For the present, yes. Though I am sure that sooner or later he will show up again."

At this moment a loud uproar was heard near the door, and as Beauchamp opened it, a young man was seen who was struggling with the office boy to gain admission.

"What is the meaning of this?" asked Beauchamp, in a tone of surprise, as he opened the door.

"Ah, Beauchamp!" exclaimed the stranger, "I knew you would admit me."

"At present I have not the honor of your acquaintance," replied Beauchamp, bowing.

"Permit me to refresh your memory; I am the man who called you into the court-room during the Benedetto trial. You were at the refreshment counter, and--"

"Ah, now I remember," said Beauchamp, in a friendly tone. "What can I do for you?"

"Pardon me, Monsieur Beauchamp, but I think I can do you a service."

"Then come into my office, Monsieur--what is your name now?"

"Gratillet, Monsieur Beauchamp," said the young man, following him into the office. After he had taken a chair proffered him he laughed to himself and in a tone of importance said:

"If I am not mistaken, you interest yourself for Benedetto?"

"A little, Monsieur Gratillet."

"When you have heard my report, you will do so more. I took good notice of Benedetto and have come to the conclusion that he has been picked out to do great things!"

"Really? Is he going to become a minister, or perhaps a king?"

"Laugh away; he will not die in the galleys."

"Then, perhaps, on the gallows; that is sometimes the end of a career like his."

"No, Benedetto is more ambitious than that. I will only give you the facts and tell you what I heard yesterday. Last night Benedetto received a visit in prison."

"A visit?"

"Just as I tell you. A veiled lady visited him and remained an hour with him. Her face I could not recognize."

"Have you got wings with which to pursue Benedetto?"

"No, Monsieur Beauchamp. At the end of the proceedings I took a carriage and arrived at the prison only a quarter of an hour after Benedetto."

"I call that promptness. You saw the lady then?"

"Yes; I did not recognize her perfectly, but imagine she is the wife of a banker who left for parts unknown about three months ago."

Beauchamp and Chateau-Renaud looked knowingly at one another, while Gratillet continued:

"The lady in question left the prison at ten o'clock and got into her carriage."

"A carriage?"

"No, a hackney coach she had hired."

"And you followed her again?"

"This time the matter was much easier; I got upon the box with the driver and arrived at her destination as soon as the occupant herself.

The carriage drove to No. 8 Rue Contrescarpe. I looked closely at the house and read a sign near the door with the following card: 'Monsieur Magloire, taxidermist.' The lady got out and rang the bell, but to no purpose. Becoming bolder she knocked at the door. A sliding window was opened and a gruff voice asked:

"'Well, what do you want?'

"'I have a letter to deliver,' said the lady softly.

"'From whom?'

"I could not make out what she said. A hand was put through the opening and took the letter, whereupon the sliding window was again closed. The lady waited a while longer and then rode off."

"Did you follow her?"

"Oh, no, why should I have done that? I am interested in Benedetto, and the lady is only a side character. First of all, Monsieur Beauchamp, do you think the story suitable for your paper?"

"Hm! that could be talked over. In the meantime take a cigar."

"Thanks. Have you ever seen the departure of the galley-slaves from Bicetre?"

"No, but I imagine it must be a curious sight."

"It is. This morning I was in Bicetre to see Benedetto depart, and I must confess I almost pitied him. The handsome Andrea Cavalcanti was undressed and his clothes cut in the usual way."

"Why do they do that?" asked Chateau-Renaud.

"To prevent the flight of a convict. Whoever sees these cut clothes knows they belong to a galley-slave. The other prisoners said nothing while the operation was being performed; Benedetto, however, cried out aloud when the jailer cut his elegant coat, and when the rattle of the chains was heard in another room he gritted his teeth and cast such a look around him that I instinctively shuddered."

"Were you present during the chaining of the convicts, Monsieur Gratillet?"

"Certainly; I never do things by halves. The prisoners were brought into the courtyard and placed in rows of two each, who were tied to each other by a chain six feet long."