Lulie led Villefort into the kitchen, where her mother was at work.
“Mother,” she cried, “keep your eye on this man! If he unclasps his hands, give the signal and Uncle Cromillian will come out with his rifle.”
Lulie entered an adjoining room, closing the door quickly. The widow Nafilet kept on with her work, but one eye or the other was fastened on Villefort who, apparently at his ease, was considering the best manner in which to open his conversation with the redoubtable bandit, at the mere mention of whose name citizens of Ajaccio and the surrounding country trembled with an inexplicable fear. He had not harmed them as yet, but they did not know what he might do if his demands were not promptly satisfied.
Lulie opened the door and beckoned to Villefort. “Come in—he will see you,” she said.
Cromillian was seated at the table, which was covered with documents and letters, when Villefort entered.
“And what does Monsieur Villefort wish from me?” were Cromillian’s first words.
“You know me, then?” asked Villefort.
“Yes, and but little to your credit. You are the hired minion of young Count Mont d’Oro, who is a spendthrift and a profligate. I have an open account, which I shall settle with him soon.”
“Perhaps I can aid you to get what is due you,” said Villefort, for he thought that he must improve his standing with the bandit as soon as possible.
“Perhaps you can,” cried Cromillian, “but I shall pay you nothing if you do.”