“You shall have it within an hour,” said Villefort. “I will tell you what I have been up to when I come back.”
He snatched the letter from Barbera’s hand, ran down-stairs and made his way quickly to the quay. He engaged a boat and soon reached the gangway of the Osprey, where he was met by the marine on guard.
“My friend, the Count Mont d’Oro, is acquainted with the Lieutenant who is with your admiral on shore. He has purchased for him a present of silver, of which he intends to make me the bearer, sending with it this letter. He knows that the Lieutenant’s name is Victor Duquesne, but he has thought that perhaps the young gentleman has another name besides Victor, and, to speak frankly, the Count does not know exactly how to spell his name.”
“You have come to the right man, sir,” said the marine. “I received word at Malta that my poor old mother was dead; that she had been buried in God’s Acre, and that she would have to remain there unless I sent home some money to have her laid beside my father in the village burying-ground. I told the Lieutenant that I had drank and gambled away all my money at Malta and he very kindly started a subscription for me, leading the paper with a pound. I remember that I asked him if the name he had written was his full name, and he said—yes. I have the paper in my pocket now.”
Villefort examined it carefully. “Victor Duquesne,” was what he saw.
“A thousand thanks,” said he, as he returned the paper, at the same time giving the man a silver coin. “Oblige me, and my friend the Count, by saying nothing about this to Lieutenant Duquesne. The Count is greatly mortified at being obliged to discover his friend’s real name in such a roundabout way, and it would add to his chagrin if the Lieutenant should hear about it.”
“I understand,” said the man. “If a piece of silver is big enough, it always closes my mouth.”
An hour had hardly elapsed before Villefort reported his finding to the Count.
“I beg your pardon, Count, but in order to secure this valuable information, which I think must convince you that Vandemar Della Coscia is in Corsica, and a guest——”
“What are you begging my pardon for, Villefort? I can imagine as well as you can. What did you do to obtain this supposed valuable information?” and the Count’s voice had a marked tinge of sarcasm in it.