ited voice. "Monte-Cristo robbed me, ruined me and drove me into
the world a penniless vagrant! I will have my revenge!"

"Spoken like a hero!" said Waldmann, enthusiastically. "We will meet at
the little gate on the Rue du Helder at midnight. Siebecker will give
you the key, Bouche-de-Miel, and you will open the gate. You need not
fear recognition, even if you should meet the woman you have spoken of
face to face, for you will be masked like the rest of us. If you are
anxious about her safety, I will tell you now that we only want
Monte-Cristo's millions; we do not mean murder."

"But what if murder should be necessary, if it cannot be avoided?"

Waldmann shrugged his shoulders.

"Then we must protect ourselves," he answered, phlegmatically.

Thereupon the coterie of miscreants separated, to pass away the hours as
best they might, until the time for the brilliant stroke they meditated
arrived.

CHAPTER XII.

FATHER AND DAUGHTER.

The Count of Monte-Cristo was in his study, pacing to and fro; he was
plunged in thought, and an expression indicative of deep concern was
upon his pale, but resolute countenance. Ever and anon he would pause in
front of a small table on which was a telegraphic outfit for the sending
and receiving of messages, listening with close attention to the sounds
given forth, for, although sound reading was not much practiced by the
telegraphers of that period, Monte-Cristo, who seemed to have all the
accomplishments of his own age and those of ages to come, was a
proficient at it, as well as a remarkably rapid and correct operator.

It was nearly midnight. The entire family in the mansion of the Rue du
Helder had retired to rest, with the exception of its head, who had
remained up in response to a summons from Berlin to be ready to receive
the details of a secret meeting of a vast society of Prussian patriots,
which would be sent to him in cipher by one of his most enthusiastic and
active agents for the promotion of the cause of universal human liberty.
The intense heat that had prevailed all day had been but slightly
moderated by the advent of a close, sultry night; there was not the
faintest breeze in the heavy, oppressive air, and the blue sky, full of
stars and flooded with brilliant moonlight, was without a cloud. The
silvery brightness poured in through the open windows of the study, so
illuminating the apartment that the Count had extinguished his lamp.
Fantastic shadows were