walking with a quick and agitated step in the direction of
Monte Cristo's house in the Champs Elysees. When he presented himself at
the gate the porter informed him that the Count had gone out about half
an hour previously. "Did he take Baptistin with him?"

"No, my lord."

"Call him, then; I wish to speak to him." The concierge went to seek the
valet de chambre, and returned with him in an instant.

"My good friend," said Albert, "I beg pardon for my intrusion, but I
was anxious to know from your own mouth if your master was really out or
not."

"He is really out, sir," replied Baptistin.

"Out, even to me?"

"I know how happy my master always is to receive the vicomte," said
Baptistin; "and I should therefore never think of including him in any
general order."

"You are right; and now I wish to see him on an affair of great
importance. Do you think it will be long before he comes in?"

"No, I think not, for he ordered his breakfast at ten o'clock."

"Well, I will go and take a turn in the Champs Elysees, and at ten
o'clock I will return here; meanwhile, if the count should come in, will
you beg him not to go out again without seeing me?"

"You may depend on my doing so, sir," said Baptistin.

Albert left the cab in which he had come at the count's door, intending
to take a turn on foot. As he was passing the Allee des Veuves, he
thought he saw the count's horses standing at Gosset's shooting-gallery;
he approached, and soon recognized the coachman. "Is the count shooting
in the gallery?" said Morcerf.

"Yes, sir," replied the coachman. While he was speaking, Albert had
heard the report of two or three pistol-shots. He entered, and on his
way met the waiter. "Excuse me, my lord," said the lad; "but will you
have the kindness to wait a moment?"

"What for, Philip?" asked Albert, who, being a constant visitor there,
did not understand this opposition to his entrance.

"Because the person who is now in the gallery prefers being alone, and
never practices in the presence of any one."

"Not even before you, Philip? Then who loads his pistol?"

"His servant."

"A Nubian?"

"A negro."

"It is he, then."

"Do you know this gentleman?"

"Yes, and I am come to look for him; he is a friend of mine."

"Oh, that is quite another thing, then. I will go immediately and inform
him of your arrival." And Philip, urged by his own curiosity, entered
the gallery; a second afterwards, Monte Cristo appeared on t