"If the officials were to find out that you were once a counterfeiter, it might go hard with you. Your license would be revoked, and besides—well, you understand."
The major looked about him in astonishment—who was the man who knew the secrets of his past life?
"Well, father?" mockingly said Benedetto.
"Father, father," repeated the major, dazed. "You are not—"
He mechanically opened his arms to press Benedetto to his heart.
"Not necessary," said the latter, laughing. "We are not in the Count of Monte-Cristo's house, and can dispense with tenderness."
The major sighed—for a further sum of fifty thousand francs he would have embraced ten Andreas.
"But who are you, anyhow?" he finally asked. "I thought I had heard that you—"
"Beware!" exclaimed Benedetto. "Do not refer to the past; here I am the Count of San Pietro!"
"The confidant—" stammered the major.