He had been talking with Spero for over an hour about their future plans, when a sudden commotion was heard, and the count, who was a strict disciplinarian, looked angrily about. Before he had time to inquire about the cause of the noise, a heavy mass came rolling down the cabin stairs. The count opened the door and saw the Zouave and another strange looking person, lying like a ball of cord on the floor. They both rose, but the Zouave would not let go of the other's throat at any price. The stranger was dressed in rags, and his thin, haggard face and glaring eyes made a disagreeable impression.
"What is the meaning of this, Coucou?" asked the count, angrily.
"Captain," the Zouave breathlessly replied, "I know I did wrong, but I could not help it. Just look at the face of this fellow."
Monte-Cristo looked searchingly at the man.
"Where did you pick him up?" he asked of the Zouave.
"In the engine room, close to the boiler. His brain must be half roasted already."
A cloud passed over the count's face.
"Who are you?" he said, turning to the stranger.
The man remained motionless. It was plain he did not understand the question.