voice." Edmond had not heard any one
speak save his jailer for four or five years; and a jailer is no man
to a prisoner--he is a living door, a barrier of flesh and blood adding
strength to restraints of oak and iron.

"In the name of heaven," cried Dantes, "speak again, though the sound of
your voice terrifies me. Who are you?"

"Who are you?" said the voice.

"An unhappy prisoner," replied Dantes, who made no hesitation in
answering.

"Of what country?"

"A Frenchman."

"Your name?"

"Edmond Dantes."

"Your profession?"

"A sailor."

"How long have you been here?"

"Since the 28th of February, 1815."

"Your crime?"

"I am innocent."

"But of what are you accused?"

"Of having conspired to aid the emperor's return."

"What! For the emperor's return?--the emperor is no longer on the
throne, then?"

"He abdicated at Fontainebleau in 1814, and was sent to the Island
of Elba. But how long have you been here that you are ignorant of all
this?"

"Since 1811."

Dantes shuddered; this man had been four years longer than himself in
prison.

"Do not dig any more," said the voice; "only tell me how high up is your
excavation?"

"On a level with the floor."

"How is it concealed?"

"Behind my bed."

"Has your bed been moved since you have been a prisoner?"

"No."

"What does your chamber open on?"

"A corridor."

"And the corridor?"

"On a court."

"Alas!" murmured the voice.

"Oh, what is the matter?" cried Dantes.

"I have made a mistake owing to an error in my plans. I took the wrong
angle, and have come out fifteen feet from where I intended. I took the
wall you are mining for the outer wall of the fortress."

"But then you would be close to the sea?"

"That is what I hoped."

"And supposing you had succeeded?"

"I should have thrown myself into the sea, gained one of the islands
near here--the Isle de Daume or the Isle de Tiboulen--and then I should
have been safe."

"Could you have swum so far?"

"Heaven would have given me strength; but now all is lost."

"All?"

"Yes; stop up your excavation carefully, do not work any more, and wait
until you hear from me."

"Tell me, at least, who you are?"

"I am--I am No. 27."

"You mistrust me, then," said Dantes. Edmond fancied he heard a bitter
laugh resounding from the depths.

"Oh, I am a Christian," cried Dantes, guessing instinctively that this
man meant to abandon him. "I swear to you by him who died for us that