larmed, and this had
only made him the more anxious to read Albert's letter; and so he went
instantly towards the waxlight, and unfolded it. It was written and
signed by Albert. Franz read it twice before he could comprehend what it
contained. It was thus worded:--

My Dear Fellow,--The moment you have received this, have the kindness
to take the letter of credit from my pocket-book, which you will find
in the square drawer of the secretary; add your own to it, if it be
not sufficient. Run to Torlonia, draw from him instantly four thousand
piastres, and give them to the bearer. It is urgent that I should have
this money without delay. I do not say more, relying on you as you may
rely on me. Your friend,

Albert de Morcerf.

P.S.--I now believe in Italian banditti.

Below these lines were written, in a strange hand, the following in
Italian:--

Se alle sei della mattina le quattro mile piastre non sono nelle mie
mani, alla sette il conte Alberto avra cessato di vivere.

Luigi Vampa.

"If by six in the morning the four thousand piastres are not in my
hands, by seven o'clock the Count Albert will have ceased to live."

This second signature explained everything to Franz, who now understood
the objection of the messenger to coming up into the apartment; the
street was safer for him. Albert, then, had fallen into the hands of
the famous bandit chief, in whose existence he had for so long a time
refused to believe. There was no time to lose. He hastened to open the
secretary, and found the pocket-book in the drawer, and in it the letter
of credit. There were in all six thousand piastres, but of these six
thousand Albert had already expended three thousand. As to Franz, he had
no letter of credit, as he lived at Florence, and had only come to Rome
to pass seven or eight days; he had brought but a hundred louis, and
of these he had not more than fifty left. Thus seven or eight hundred
piastres were wanting to them both to make up the sum that Albert
required. True, he might in such a case rely on the kindness of Signor
Torlonia. He was, therefore, about to return to the Palazzo Bracciano
without loss of time, when suddenly a luminous idea crossed his mind. He
remembered the Count of Monte Cristo. Franz was about to ring for Signor
Pastrini, when that worthy presented himself. "My dear sir," he said,
hastily, "do you know if the count is within?"

"Yes, your excellency; he has this moment returned."

"Is he in bed?"