“What! then you are here upon a mission?”
“Yes, I’m a delegate, as they call it. O Lord, I wish somebody would take me home!”
“Where do you reside, Mr Bagsby?”
“I don’t know the name of the street, and the man who brought me here has just gone away with a gun! Oh dear! what shall I do?”
I really felt considerably embarrassed. By this time Monte-Christo and most of his guests had departed, and I knew no one to whom I could consign the unfortunate and terrified free-trader. I sincerely pitied poor Bagsby, who was eminently unfitted for this sort of work; and was just about to offer him an asylum in my own apartments, when I felt my shoulder touched, and, turning round, recognised the intelligent though sarcastic features of Albert the ouvrier.
“You are both English?” he said in a perfectly pure dialect. “Eh bien, I like the English, and I wish they understood us better. You are in difficulties. Well, I will assist. Come with me. You may depend upon the honour of a member of the Institute. Workman as I am, I have some influence here. Come—is it a bargain? Only one caution, gentlemen: remember where you are, and that the watchwords for the night are fraternité, egalité! You comprehend? Let us lose no time, but follow me.”
So saying, he strode to the door. Bagsby said not a word, but clutched my arm. But as we descended the staircase, he muttered in my ear as well as the chattering of his teeth would allow:—
“It is him—I am perfectly certain! Who on earth would have believed this! O Lord Harry!”