"Visit me this evening, and you shall have my answer."
"With pleasure. Where do you live? Here in some hotel?"
"Oh, no," said Monte-Cristo, smiling; "since a law-court has condemned me to pay a heavy fine because I had no domicile in France, I have come to a different conclusion."
"How is that?"
"Well, I possess now in every large town in France a house, and in Paris and Lyons and other chief towns a palace."
"Excellent—it is only a pity that this expedient is not at everybody's command. But when did this fine in money take effect? It was not I suppose in the lawsuits you had against Andrea Cavalcanti, alias Benedetto? Yes? But do you know what I have heard? Benedetto is said to have escaped from Toulon. Take care of him; if there is a tiger in human shape, it is surely Benedetto!"
"I know it, Monsieur Beauchamp," replied the count, reluctantly; "Benedetto is the embodiment of evil principles—Satan in person! But one day I shall stretch out my hand and order him to stop—even if I have to go to the corners of the world to find him, he will not escape me."
"To that I respond amen. As to the Jackal Coucou, take him quietly with you. I shall take care to get him an indefinite furlough—he will render you good service, in the hell of Algiers which he knows as well as his pocket. But something struck me just now: accident, which often plays wonderful tricks, might bring you in contact with one of our co-workers, who, Heaven knows, roves about perhaps in Timbuctoo or even Zanzibar; he sent me once a few good sketches about Abd-el-Kader, and then became an adventurer somewhere else."
"And this gentleman's name?"