THE DAY AFTER that in which the scene we have just described had taken place on the road between Bellegarde and Beaucaire, a man of about thirty or two and thirty, dressed in a bright blue frock coat, nankeen trousers, and a white waistcoat, having the appearance and accent of an Englishman, presented himself before the mayor of Marseilles. "Sir," said he, "I am chief clerk of the house of Thomson & French, of Rome. We are, and have been these ten years, connected with the house of Morrel & Son, of Marseilles. We have a hundred thousand francs or thereabouts loaned on their securities, and we are a little uneasy at reports that have reached us that the firm is on the brink of ruin. I have come, therefore, express from Rome, to ask you for information."

"Sir," replied the mayor. "I know very well that during the last four or five years misfortune has seemed to pursue M. Morrel. He has lost four or five vessels, and suffered by three or four bankruptcies; but it is not for me, although I am a creditor myself to the amount of ten thousand francs, to give any information as to the state of his finances. Ask of me, as mayor, what is my opinion of M. Morrel, and I shall say that he is a man honorable to the last degree, and who has up to this time fulfilled every engagement with scrupulous punctuality. This is all I can say, sir; if you wish to learn more, address yourself to M. de Boville, the inspector of prisons, No. 15, Rue de Nouailles; he has, I believe, two hundred thousand francs in Morrel's hands, and if there be any grounds for apprehension, as this is a greater amount than mine, you will most probably find him better informed than myself."

The Englishman seemed to appreciate this extreme delicacy, made his bow and went away, proceeding with a characteristic British stride towards the street mentioned. M. de Boville was in his private room, and the Englishman, on perceiving him, made a gesture of surprise, which seemed to indicate that it was not the first time he had been in his presence. As to M. de Boville, he was in such a state of despair, that it was evident all the faculties of his mind, absorbed in the thought which occupied him at the moment, did not allow either his memory or his imagination to stray to the past. The Englishman, with the coolness of his nation, addressed him in terms nearly similar to those with which he had accosted the mayor of Marseilles. "Oh, sir," exclaimed M. de Boville, "your fears are unfortunately but too well founded, and you see before you a man in despair. I had two hundred thousand francs placed in the hands of Morrel & Son; these two hundred thousand francs were the dowry of my daughter, who was to be married in a fortnight, and these two hundred thousand francs were payable, half on the 15th of this month, and the other half on the 15th of next month. I had informed M. Morrel of my desire to have these payments punctually, and he has been here within the last half-hour to tell me that if his ship, the Pharaon, did not come into port on the 15th, he would be wholly unable to make this payment."

"But," said the Englishman, "this looks very much like a suspension of payment."

"It looks more like bankruptcy!" exclaimed M. de Boville despairingly.

The Englishman appeared to reflect a moment, and then said,--"From which it would appear, sir, that this credit inspires you with considerable apprehension?"

"To tell you the truth, I consider it lost."

"Well, then, I will buy it of you!"

"You?"

"Yes, I!"

"But at a tremendous discount, of course?"

"No, for two hundred thousand francs. Our house," added the Englishman with a laugh, "does not do things in that way."

"And you will pay"--

"Ready money." And the Englishman drew from his pocket a bundle of bank-notes, which might have been twice the sum M. de Boville feared to lose. A ray of joy passed across M. de Boville's countenance, yet he made an effort at self-control, and said,--"Sir, I ought to tell you that, in all probability, you will not realize six per cent of this sum."

"That's no affair of mine," replied the Englishman, "that is the affair of the house of Thomson & French, in whose name I act. They have, perhaps, some motive to serve in hastening the ruin of a rival firm. But all I know, sir, is, that I am ready to hand you over this sum in exchange for your assignment of the debt. I only ask a brokerage."

"Of course, that is perfectly just," cried M. de Boville. "The commission is usually one and a half; will you have two--three--five per cent, or even more? Whatever you say."

"Sir," replied the Englishman, laughing, "I am like my house, and do not do such things--no, the commission I ask is quite different."

"Name it, sir, I beg."

"You are the inspector of prisons?"

"I have been so these fourteen years."

"You keep the registers of entries and departures?"

"I do."

"To these registers there are added notes relative to the prisoners?"

"There are special reports on every prisoner."

"Well, sir, I was educated at home by a poor devil of an abbé, who disappeared suddenly. I have since learned that he was confined in the Chateau d'If, and I should like to learn some particulars of his death."

"What was his name?"

"The Abbé Faria."

"Oh, I recollect him perfectly," cried M. de Boville; "he was crazy."

"So they said."

"Oh, he was, decidedly."

"Very possibly; but what sort of madness was it?"

"He pretended to know of an immense treasure, and offered vast sums to the government if they would liberate him."

"Poor devil!--and he is dead?"

"Yes, sir, five or six months ago--last February."

"You have a good memory, sir, to recollect dates so well."

"I recollect this, because the poor devil's death was accompanied by a singular incident."

"May I ask what that was?" said the Englishman with an expression of curiosity, which a close observer would have been astonished at discovering in his phlegmatic countenance.

"Oh dear, yes, sir; the abbé's dungeon was forty or fifty feet distant from that of one of Bonaparte's emissaries,--one of those who had contributed the most to the return of the usurper in 1815,--a very resolute and very dangerous man."

"Indeed!" said the Englishman.

"Yes," replied M. de Boville; "I myself had occasion to see this man in 1816 or 1817, and we could only go into his dungeon with a file of soldiers. That man made a deep impression on me; I shall never forget his countenance!" The Englishman smiled imperceptibly.

"And you say, sir," he interposed, "that the two dungeons" --

"Were separated by a distance of fifty feet; but it appears that this Edmond Dantès"--

"This dangerous man's name was"--

"Edmond Dantès. It appears, sir, that this Edmond Dantès had procured tools, or made them, for they found a tunnel through which the prisoners held communication with one another."

"This tunnel was dug, no doubt, with an intention of escape?"

"No doubt; but unfortunately for the prisoners, the Abbé Faria had an attack of catalepsy, and died."

"That must have cut short the projects of escape."

"For the dead man, yes," replied M. de Boville, "but not for the survivor; on the contrary, this Dantès saw a means of accelerating his escape. He, no doubt, thought that prisoners who died in the Chateau d'If were interred in an ordinary burial-ground, and he conveyed the dead man into his own cell, took his place in the sack in which they had sewed up the corpse, and awaited the moment of interment."

"It was a bold step, and one that showed some courage," remarked the Englishman.

"As I have already told you, sir, he was a very dangerous man; and, fortunately, by his own act disembarrassed the government of the fears it had on his account."

"How was that?"

"How? Do you not comprehend?"

"No."

"The Chateau d'If has no cemetery, and they simply throw the dead into the sea, after fastening a thirty-six pound cannon-ball to their feet."

"Well," observed the Englishman as if he were slow of comprehension.

"Well, they fastened a thirty-six pound ball to his feet, and threw him into the sea."

"Really!" exclaimed the Englishman.

"Yes, sir," continued the inspector of prisons. "You may imagine the amazement of the fugitive when he found himself flung headlong over the rocks! I should like to have seen his face at that moment."

"That would have been difficult."

"No matter," replied De Boville, in supreme good-humor at the certainty of recovering his two hundred thousand francs,--"no matter, I can fancy it." And he shouted with laughter.

"So can I," said the Englishman, and he laughed too; but he laughed as the English do, "at the end of his teeth."

"And so," continued the Englishman who first gained his composure, "he was drowned?"

"Unquestionably."

"So that the governor got rid of the dangerous and the crazy prisoner at the same time?"

"Precisely."

"But some official document was drawn up as to this affair, I suppose?" inquired the Englishman.

"Yes, yes, the mortuary deposition. You understand, Dantès' relations, if he had any, might have some interest in knowing if he were dead or alive."

"So that now, if there were anything to inherit from him, they may do so with easy conscience. He is dead, and no mistake about it."

"Oh, yes; and they may have the fact attested whenever they please."

"So be it," said the Englishman. "But to return to these registers."

"True, this story has diverted our attention from them. Excuse me."

"Excuse you for what? For the story? By no means; it really seems to me very curious."

"Yes, indeed. So, sir, you wish to see all relating to the poor abbé, who really was gentleness itself."

"Yes, you will much oblige me."

"Go into my study here, and I will show it to you." And they both entered M. de Boville's study. Everything was here arranged in perfect order; each register had its number, each file of papers its place. The inspector begged the Englishman to seat himself in an arm-chair, and placed before him the register and documents relative to the Chateau d'If, giving him all the time he desired for the examination, while De Boville seated himself in a corner, and began to read his newspaper. The Englishman easily found the entries relative to the Abbé Faria; but it seemed that the history which the inspector had related interested him greatly, for after having perused the first documents he turned over the leaves until he reached the deposition respecting Edmond Dantès. There he found everything arranged in due order,--the accusation, examination, Morrel's petition, M. de Villefort's marginal notes. He folded up the accusation quietly, and put it as quietly in his pocket; read the examination, and saw that the name of Noirtier was not mentioned in it; perused, too, the application dated 10th April, 1815, in which Morrel, by the deputy procureur's advice, exaggerated with the best intentions (for Napoleon was then on the throne) the services Dantès had rendered to the imperial cause--services which Villefort's certificates rendered indispensable. Then he saw through the whole thing. This petition to Napoleon, kept back by Villefort, had become, under the second restoration, a terrible weapon against him in the hands of the king's attorney. He was no longer astonished when he searched on to find in the register this note, placed in a bracket against his name:--

Edmond Dantès.

An inveterate Bonapartist; took an active part in the return from the Island of Elba.

To be kept in strict solitary confinement, and to be closely watched and guarded.

Beneath these lines was written in another hand: "See note above--nothing can be done." He compared the writing in the bracket with the writing of the certificate placed beneath Morrel's petition, and discovered that the note in the bracket was the some writing as the certificate--that is to say, was in Villefort's handwriting. As to the note which accompanied this, the Englishman understood that it might have been added by some inspector who had taken a momentary interest in Dantès' situation, but who had, from the remarks we have quoted, found it impossible to give any effect to the interest he had felt.

As we have said, the inspector, from discretion, and that he might not disturb the Abbé Faria's pupil in his researches, had seated himself in a corner, and was reading Le Drapeau Blanc. He did not see the Englishman fold up and place in his pocket the accusation written by Danglars under the arbor of La Rèserve, and which had the postmark, "Marseilles, 27th Feb., delivery 6 o'clock, P.M." But it must be said that if he had seen it, he attached so little importance to this scrap of paper, and so much importance to his two hundred thousand francs, that he would not have opposed whatever the Englishman might do, however irregular it might be.

"Thanks," said the latter, closing the register with a slam, "I have all I want; now it is for me to perform my promise. Give me a simple assignment of your debt; acknowledge therein the receipt of the cash, and I will hand you over the money." He rose, gave his seat to M. de Boville, who took it without ceremony, and quickly drew up the required assignment, while the Englishman counted out the bank-notes on the other side of the desk.

上面所描写过的那一幕发生后的第二天，一个年约三十一二岁，身穿颜色鲜艳的蓝色外套，紫花裤子，白色背心的人，来见马赛市长。看他的外表听他的口音，他是个英国人。“阁下，”他说道，“我是罗马汤姆生·弗伦奇银行的高级职员。最近十年来，我们和马赛莫雷尔父子公司有联系。我们大约有十万法郎投资在他们那儿，我们接到报告，听说这家公司有可能破产，所以我们有点不大放心。我是罗马特地派来的，来向您打听关于这家公司的消息。”

“阁下，”市长答道，“我知道得极其清楚，最近四五年来，灾祸似乎老跟着莫雷尔先生。他损失了四五条船，受了三四家商行倒闭的打击。虽然我也是一个一万法郎的债权人，可是关于他的经济状况，我却无法告诉您什么情况。假如您要我以市长的身份来谈谈我对于莫雷尔先生的看法，那我就该说，他是一个极其可靠的人。到目前为止，每一笔帐，他都是十分严格地按期付款的。阁下，我所能说的仅此而已。如果您想知道得更详细一些，请您自己去问监狱长波维里先生吧，他住在诺黎史街十五号。我相信，他有二十万法郎在莫雷尔的手里，假如有什么可担心的地方，他这笔钱的数目比我的大，他大概会比我知道得更清楚些。”

英国人似乎很欣赏这番极其委婉的话，他鞠了一躬，跨着大不列颠子民所特有的那种步伐向所说的那条街道走去。波维里先生正在他的书房里，那个英国人一见到他，就做出了一种吃惊的姿态，似乎表明他并非初次见到他。但波维里先生正处在一种沮丧绝望的状态之中，他满脑子似乎都在想着眼下发生的事情，所以他的记忆力或想象力都无暇去回想往事了。

那英国人以他的民族特有的那种冷峻态度，把他对马赛市长说过的那几句话，又大同小异地说了一遍。

“噢，先生，”波维里先生叹道，“您的担心是有根据的，您看，您的面前就是一个绝望的人。我有二十万法郎投在莫雷尔父子公司里，这二十万法郎是我女儿的陪嫁，她再过两星期就要结婚了，这笔钱一半在这个月十五日到期，另一半在下个月十五日到期。我已经通知了莫雷尔先生，希望这些款子能按时付清。半小时以前他还到这儿告诉我，如果他的船，那艘法老号，不在十五日进港，他就完全无力偿还这笔款子。”

“不过，”英国人说，“这看来很象是一次延期付款呀！”

“还不如说是宣布破产吧！”波维里先生绝望地叹道。

英国人象是思索了片刻，然后说道：“那么，先生，这笔欠款使您很担心罗？”

“老实说，我认为这笔钱已经没指望了。”

“好吧，那么，我来向您买过来吧。”

“您？”

“是的，我。”

“但一定要大大的打一个折扣吧？”

“不，照二十万法郎原价。我们的银行，”英国人大笑了一声，接着说，“是不做那种事情的。”

“而您是付——”

“现款。”英国人说着便从他的口袋里抽出了一叠钞票，那叠钞票大概有两倍于波维里先生所害怕损失的那笔数目。

波维里先生的脸上掠过一道喜悦的光彩，可是他竟克制住了自己，说道：“先生，我应该告诉您，从各方面估计，这笔款子您最多不过只能收回百分之六。”

“那不关我的事，”英国人回答说，“那是汤姆生·弗伦奇银行的事，我只是奉命行事。他们或许存心想加速一家敌对商行的垮台。我所知道的，先生，只是我准备把这笔款子交给您，换得您在这笔债务上签一个字。我只要求一点经手之劳。”

“那当然是十分公道的，”波维里先生大声说道。“普通的佣金是一厘半，您可要二厘，三厘，五厘，或更多？只管请说吧！”

“先生，”英国人大笑起来，回答说，“我象我的银行一样，是不做这种事的，不，我所要的佣金是另一种性质的。”

“请说吧，先生，我听着呢。”

“您是监狱长？”

“我已经当了十四年啦。”

“您保管着犯人入狱出狱的档案？”

“不错。”

“这些档案上有与犯人有关的记录罗？”

“每个犯人都有各自的记录。”

“好了，阁下，我是在罗马读的书，我的老师是一个苦命的神甫，他后来突然失踪了。我听说他是被关在伊夫堡的，我很想知道他临死时的详细情形。”

“他叫什么名字？”

“法利亚神甫。”

“噢，他我记得很清楚，”波维里先生大声说，“他是个疯子。”

“别人都这么说。”

“噢，他是的，的确是的。”

“或许很可能，但他发疯的症状是什么？”

“他自以为有一个极大的宝藏，假如他能获得自由，他愿意献给政府一笔巨款。”

“可怜！他死了吗？”

“是的，先生，差不多在五六个月以前，二月份死的。”

“你的记忆力强，先生，能把日期记得这样清楚。”

“我之所以记得这件事，是因为那可怜虫死时还附带发生了一件稀有的怪事。”

“我可以问问那是件什么事吗？”英国人带着一种好奇的表情问道。他那冷峻的脸上竟会现出这种表情，一个细心的观察者见了大概会很惊奇的。

“可以，先生，离神甫的地牢四五十尺远的地方，原先有一个拿破仑党分子，是一八一五年逆贼回来时最卖力的那些分子中的一个，他是一个非常大胆，非常危险的人物。”

“真的吗？”英国人问道。

“是的，”波维里先生答道，“在一八一六或一八一七年的时候，我曾亲眼见过这个人，我们要到他的地牢里去时，总得带一排兵同去才行。那个人给我的印象很深。我永远忘不了他那张脸！”

英国人作了一个不易觉察的微笑。“而您说，先生，”他说道，“那两间地牢——”

“隔着五十尺远，但看来这个爱德蒙·唐太斯——”

“这个危险人物的名字是叫——”

“爱德蒙·唐太斯。看来，先生，这个爱德蒙·唐太斯是弄到了工具的，或是他自己制造的，因为他们发现了一条连通那两个犯人的地道。”

“这条地道，无疑的，是为了想逃走才挖的罗？”

“当然罗，不过这两个犯人运气不佳，法里亚神甫发了一场痫厥病死了。”

“我明白了，那样就把逃走的计划打断了。”

“对死者而言，是如此，”波维里先生答道，“但对那生者却不然。相反的，这个唐太斯却想出了一个加速他逃走的办法。

他一定以为伊夫堡死掉的犯人是象普通人一样埋葬在坟场里的。他把死人搬到他自己的地牢里，自己假装死人钻在他们准备的口袋里，只等埋葬的时间到来。”

“这一着很大胆，敢这样做的人是要有勇气的。”英国人说道。

“我已经告诉过您了，先生，他原是一个非常危险的人物，幸好结果走他自己的这一个举动倒省得政府再为他操心了。”

“这怎么讲？”

“怎么？您不明白吗？”

“不。”

“伊夫堡是没有坟场的，他们在死者脚上绑一个三十六磅重的铁球，然后朝海里一扔就算了事了。”

“哦？”英国人应了一声，象是他还不十分明白似的。

“嗯，他们在他的脚上绑上一个三十六磅的铁球，把他扔到海里去了。”

“真的吗？”英国人惊喊道。

“是的，先生，”监狱长继续说道。“您可以想象得到，当那个亡命者发觉他自己笔直地坠入大海的时候，该是多么的吃惊。我倒很想看看他当时地的面部表情。”

“那是很不容易的。”

“没关系，”波维里先生因为已确定他那二十万法郎可以收回，所以答话极其轻松幽默，“没关系，我可以想象得出的。”

他于是大笑起来。

“我也想象得出，”英国人说着也大笑起来。但他的笑是一种英国人式的笑法，是从他的牙齿缝里笑出来的。“那么，”英国人先恢复了他的常态，继续问道，“他淹死了吗？”

“这毫无疑问。”

“那么监狱长倒把凶犯和疯犯同时摆脱掉了？”

“一点不错。”

“对于这件事总有某种官方文件记录吧？”英国人问。

“有的，有的，有死亡证明书。您知道，唐太斯的亲属，假如他还有什么亲属的话，或许会有兴趣想知道他是死了还是活着。”

“那么现在，假如他有什么遗产的话，他们就可以问心无愧地享用了。他已经死了，这不会有错吧？”

“噢，是的。他们随时都可来看实际的证据。”

“应该如此，”英国人说，“但话又说回到这些档案上来了。”

“真的，这件事分散了我们的注意力。请原谅。”

“原谅您什么，因为那个故事吗？不，在我听来，真是非常新奇的。”

“是的，真是的。那么，先生，您想看看关于那可怜的神甫的全部文件吗？他倒真是很温和的。”

“是的，务必请您方便一下。”

“请到我的书房里来，我拿给您看。”于是他们走进了波维里先生的书房。这儿的一切都井井有条。每一种档案都编着号码，每一夹文件都有固定的地方。监狱长请英国人坐在一张圈椅里，把有关伊夫堡的档案和文件放到了他的面前，让他随便地去翻阅，而他自己则去坐在了一个角落里，开始读他的报纸。那英国人很容易就找到了有关法利亚神甫的记录，但监狱长讲给他听的那番话似乎使他产生了很大的兴趣，因为在阅读了第一类文件以后，他又往后翻，直到他翻到了有关爱德蒙·唐太斯的文件才停下来。他发现一切都原封不动的在那儿，那封告密信，判决书，莫雷尔的请愿书，维尔福先生的按语。他偷偷地折起那封告密书，迅速地把它放进了他的口袋里，读了一遍判决书，发觉里面并没有提到诺瓦蒂埃那个名字，还看了一遍请愿书，上面的日期是一八一五年四月十日，在这封请愿书里，莫雷尔因为听了代理检察官的劝告，所以善意地（因为那时拿破仑还在位）夸大了唐太斯对帝国的功劳，这种功劳，经维尔福的签署证明，当然是铁定的了。于是他明白是怎么一回事了。这封上呈给拿破仑的请愿书，被维尔福扣留了下来，到王朝第二次复辟的时候，在检察官的手里就变成了一件可怕的攻击他的武器。所以当他在档案里找到这张条子，在他的姓名底下有一个括弧列着他的罪名时，他也就不再显示惊奇了：

——爱德蒙·唐太斯拿破仑党分子，曾负责协助逆贼自厄尔巴岛归来。

应严加看守，小心戒备。

在这几行字下面，还有另一个人的笔迹写着：“已阅，无需复议。”他把括弧下的笔迹同莫雷尔的请愿书底下签署的笔迹比较了一下，发现这两种笔迹是出自同一个人的手，也就是说，是出于维尔福的手笔。至于罪状底下的那两句按语，英国人懂得大概是某位巡察员大人加上去的，那位大员大概忽然一时对唐太斯的情况发生了兴趣，但由于我们上面所说过的那些记录，所以他虽然颇感兴趣，却也提不出什么异议。

我们已经说过，那位监狱长，为了不打扰法利亚神甫的学生的研究工作，自己去坐在了一个角落里，在那儿读《白旗报》。他没有注意到英国人把那封腾格拉尔在瑞瑟夫酒家的凉棚底下所写的，上面兼有马赛邮局二月二十八日下午六时邮戳的告密信折起来放进了他的口袋里。但是必须说明，即使他注意到了，他也会觉得这片纸无足轻重，而他那二十万法郎才是最重要的，所以不管英国人这种行为是多么的不规矩，他也不会来反对的。

“谢谢！”英国人“啪”的一声把档案给合上，说道，“我想知道的都已经知道了，现在该由我来履行我的诺言了。只要请您给我一张债务转让证明，上面说明已收到现款，我就把钱付给您。”他站起来，把他的位子让给了波维里先生，后者毫不谦让地坐了下来，急忙写那张对方需要的转让证明，而那英国人则在写字台的对面数钞票。