"But who did it?"
The woman in a frightened whisper, answered:
"It was Benedetto—my son!"
A cry of horror escaped from every heart.
"Yes," exclaimed Sanselme, "and the wretch still lives. He assassinated his mother, and by what miracle she escaped, I know not. He—this Benedetto—is to-day in Paris. He has come to avenge himself on Monte-Cristo."
Fanfar questioned Sanselme, who avowed everything except that Jane was his daughter. He would not have admitted this had he been threatened with the guillotine. Fanfar listened attentively.
"It is as clear as day to me," he said, at last, "that all this is Benedetto's work. Therefore we will first find him, and of him we will demand an account of this new crime. Sanselme, you have been a great criminal. Are you ready to prove your repentance?"
"I will obey you in whatsoever you order. Save Jane, no matter what becomes of me."
"Then all of you will make ready for the fray. I will summon the Count of Monte-Cristo, as it was agreed I should do in case of danger. He will be here in three days, and we must be able to say to him that we have saved his son."
"Yes, we must say that," cried the Zouave, "or Coucon will be dead."