it, and him by whom he is employed." The abbé bowed. "Your probity," replied the stranger, "is so well known to the prefect, that he wishes, as a magistrate, to ascertain from you some particulars con nected with the public safety; to ascertain which I am deputed to see you. It is hoped that no ties of friendship or personal consideration will induce you to conceal the truth from justice."
"Provided, sir, the particulars you wish for do not interfere with my scruples or my conscience. I am a priest, sir, and the secrets of confession, for instance, must remain between me and the justice of God, and not between me and human justice."
"Do not alarm yourself, M. l'Abbé, we will duly respect your conscience." At this moment the abbe pressed down his side of the shade, which raised it on the other, and threw a bright light on the face of the stranger, while his own remained obscured.
"Excuse me, abbé," said the envoy of the prefect of police, "but the light tries my eyes very much." The abbé lowered the green shade.
"Now, sir, I am listening—speak!"
"I will come at once to the point. Do you know the Count of Monte-Cristo?"
"You mean M. Zaccone, I presume?"
"Zaccone!—is not his name Monte-Cristo?"
"Monte-Cristo is the name of an estate, or, rather, of a rock, and not a family name."
"Well, be it so—let us not dispute about words; and since M. de Monte-Cristo and M. Zaccone are the same"
"Absolutely the same."
"Let us speak of M. Zaccone."
"Agreed."
"I asked you if you knew him?"
"Extremely well."
"Who is he?"
"The son of a rich ship-builder in Malta."
"I know that is the report; but, as you are aware, the police does not content itself with vague reports."
"However," replied the abbé, with an affable smile, "when that report is in accordance with the truth, everybody must believe it, the police as well as all the rest."
"Are you sure of what you assert?"
"What do you mean by that question!"
"Understand, sir, I do not in the least suspect your good faith; I ask you are you certain of it?"
"I knew his father, M. Zaccone, and when a child I often played with the son in the timber-yards."
