"That is unfortunate," said the Count, "as one of them is in possession of information of the utmost importance to me. He has made partial revelations, but sets as the price of a full disclosure my interference in behalf of himself and his comrade in crime. What can be done?"
"I do not see," replied the chief, in perplexity. "It is impossible for me to let the men off."
"But is there not some way in which I could obtain a mitigation of their punishment?"
"Oh! as for that, yes," said the officer, brightening. "If you would speak to the Procureur de la République, I am sure he would grant you the minimum sentence in such cases. Perhaps," added he, as a sudden thought struck him, "he might even be induced not to press the prosecution, in which event the men would be discharged."
"Thank you, monsieur," said the Count, rising. "I will act upon your wise suggestion without delay. But can you grant me a small favor? Can you allow me a brief interview with the man calling himself Peppino?"
"Undoubtedly," answered the chief, in a cordial voice, "and I shall be very glad to do so if it will assist you any."
"It will enable me to assure the man that I am at work and have some hope of success."
"Then follow me."
The chief, who had remained standing out of compliment to the Count, took a large key from a rack behind his desk and opened a door leading into a long, dimly-lighted corridor. Monte-Cristo followed him through this gloomy passage until they came to a cell before which the chief stopped. The large key grated in the lock, the door of the cell swung open with an ominous sound and the Count found himself face to face with the former Roman bandit.