“That young devil of an Englishman has a charmed life,” said Villefort.
“Perhaps so,” the Count replied, “but you know there is an old saying that the third time never fails. In order that the saying may not be disproved, we must make sure of our game this time.”
Wine and cigars were ordered, and the two worthies cudgelled their brains to think of some plan by which Victor might be put in their power. How he could be summarily disposed of was a matter which must be decided later.
Villefort looked up suddenly and asked:
“What was the name of the man who killed Pascal Batistelli’s father?”
The Count replied: “Manuel Della Coscia—his son’s name was Vandemar.”
“Then the son’s initials would be V. D. C., would they not?”
“Certainly, but what are you looking at so intently?”
“By Saint Christopher!” cried Villefort, “but this is strange!”
“What is strange? Speak up and don’t sit there with your mouth open like a stuck pig.”