One morning shortly after the departure of the Morrels for Rome, the Count of Monte-Cristo was driving along the Champs-ElysÉes in his elegant barouche drawn by a pair of spirited, blooded bays, when, near the Rond-point, his progress was suddenly checked by a great, tumultuous concourse of people. Leaning from his carriage, he asked a workman the cause of the unwonted commotion and was informed that two Italians had been arrested for theft and were being taken to the poste of the quarter by a couple of gardiens de la paix. He thought nothing of the circumstance and was calmly waiting for an opportunity to proceed when the crowd about the barouche opened and the officers appeared with their captives. The Count was not much interested, but, nevertheless, bestowed a passing glance upon the malefactors, who were loudly protesting their innocence in broken, almost unintelligible French, and offering a stout resistance. They were roughly attired in blue blouses, wearing felt hats that were pulled down and obscured their countenances. One of the men in custody caught hold of a spoke of a wheel of Monte-Cristo's vehicle, grasping it with such iron firmness that all the efforts of the policeman in charge of him failed to shake off his clutch. The Count ordered Ali, who was acting as coachman, to hand him the reins, dismount and assist the gardien.

At the sound of his voice, the man who had grasped the spoke looked up with a start and, without relaxing his hold, cried out in Italian:

"Say a word for me, your Excellency! The Count of Monte-Cristo should have as much power over the myrmidons of the French law as over Luigi Vampa and his band!"

This exclamation amazed and startled the Count, so strange and unlooked for was it. He gazed penetratingly at the malefactor who had uttered it, but his scrutiny was unrewarded by recognition.

"Who are you?" he asked, as soon as his amazement permitted him to speak, also making use of the Italian language. "You are a perfect stranger to me, yet you know my name and seem acquainted with some of my actions in the past. Who are you?"

"I am Peppino," answered the man, without taking his eyes from the Count. "My companion who is being dragged away yonder is Beppo."

"Peppino?—Beppo?" said the Count, musingly. "Surely I have heard those names before, but they are common in Italy, especially in Rome, and I have been there frequently. Be more explicit, man."

"I will," replied the Italian. "I am the Peppino who served you so well when Luigi Vampa held the French banker, Danglars, in captivity at your behest. As for Beppo, you cannot have forgotten him; he also was a member of Vampa's band at that period."

"Yes," said Monte-Cristo, "I remember both of you now, but what can I do for you? Paris is vastly different from Rome, and my influence with the French police is not by any means equal to that I wielded over Vampa and his brigands at the time you speak of."

"The Count of Monte-Cristo's power is unbounded anywhere in the entire world," rejoined the man, his brightened visage showing clearly the extent of his faith. "A word from him will release both Beppo and myself. Speak that word, your Excellency, and set us free!"

Ali had refrained from interfering when he heard this singular conversation, which he fully understood. He was waiting for further orders from his master.

The policeman grew impatient and, giving the Italian a rough shake, said to him:

"Come now, let go that spoke and submit. Don't you see that you are disturbing the Count of Monte-Cristo? His Excellency will do nothing for such a scoundrel as you. Come, let go that spoke, I say!"

Peppino, however, would not obey and continued to supplicate the Count to interfere in behalf of Beppo and himself. At last, driven to desperation by Monte-Cristo's inaction, he cried out to him:

"If your Excellency will do nothing for us without recompense, I will give that recompense; I will tell you in exchange for your efforts in our behalf all I know concerning the black conspiracy against the Viscount Giovanni Massetti!"

The Count was visibly moved by this speech. He stared at Peppino as if he thought that he had not heard aright.

"The Viscount Giovanni Massetti! A black conspiracy against him! What do you mean?" he inquired, quickly.

"Just what I say, your Excellency," answered the Italian. "I know that the Viscount visited the Palazzo Costi in Rome when you inhabited it with your family, and that he fell in love with your daughter. I also know the details of a plot by which a network of crushing circumstances has been woven about him with the view of burying him beneath a weight of shame, dishonor and even of crime! I can reveal those details and will do so if you aid my companion and myself in our present difficulty. Do I interest you, Signor Count?"

"Vastly," answered Monte-Cristo, his face assuming a serious look. "Go quietly with the gardien to the poste. I will follow immediately and see what can be done."

"Yes, your Excellency," said Peppino, submissively, and abandoning his grasp of the spoke he allowed the policeman to bear him away without further trouble. Meanwhile Beppo and the officer in whose custody he was had disappeared in the distance.

Those who had been near enough to the Count's barouche to witness this extraordinary scene were greatly astonished that such a famous character as the eloquent Deputy from Marseilles should stoop to converse with a malefactor in the public street, but their astonishment was immeasurably augmented when they saw the influence the celebrated orator exercised over the depraved Italian. They had not been able to understand the conversation, but the effect of Monte-Cristo's last words seemed little less than miraculous to them and they rent the air with loud and enthusiastic cheers.

"Long live the noble Count of Monte-Cristo! Long live the Deputy from Marseilles, the people's friend!" was shouted on every side.

Further on the cry was taken up and repeated, ringing forth far along the broad and beautiful Champs-ElysÉes!

Monte-Cristo arose in his barouche and, removing his hat, stood bareheaded, bowing to the excited populace.

This was the signal for new and heartier cheers. But the criminals having been removed, the crowd soon began to disperse. At length the thoroughfare was cleared and the Count's vehicle could proceed. Ali had impassibly resumed the driver's seat and, at a nod from his adored master, started the spirited horses down the immense avenue. As the blooded bays went prancing along with proudly arched necks, the Count bent over and said to Ali:

"Drive at once to the poste of the quarter."

The Nubian skilfully wheeled the animals about and in a few minutes Monte-Cristo had reached his destination.

At the door of the poste a gardien received him and, at the mention of his name, obsequiously conducted him to the officer in charge. The latter, a short, determined-looking man with a bristling gray moustache and gray hair that stood almost on end upon his little round head, recognized his illustrious visitor at a glance. He hastily arose from the desk at which he was seated, engaged in examining the reports of his subordinates, and politely offered him a chair. Then he asked, deferentially:

"To what am I indebted for so distinguished an honor as a call from the Count of Monte-Cristo?"

"Monsieur," replied the Count, taking the proffered seat, "two Italians were arrested a short time ago on the Champs-ElysÉes and brought hither."

"Yes," said the chief of the poste, "and great scoundrels they are, too! We have been shadowing them for some time, but could never detect them in any overt act until to-day. They belong to a very dangerous gang of prowlers, led by a shrewd German named Waldmann, whose headquarters are in a wretched caboulot of the CitÉ d' Antin."

"Of what are these Italians accused, that is what is the present specific charge against them?"

"They were caught picking pockets in the crowd thronging about a marionette show."

"Is the evidence against them conclusive?"

"It is."

"That is unfortunate," said the Count, "as one of them is in possession of information of the utmost importance to me. He has made partial revelations, but sets as the price of a full disclosure my interference in behalf of himself and his comrade in crime. What can be done?"

"I do not see," replied the chief, in perplexity. "It is impossible for me to let the men off."

"But is there not some way in which I could obtain a mitigation of their punishment?"

"Oh! as for that, yes," said the officer, brightening. "If you would speak to the Procureur de la RÉpublique, I am sure he would grant you the minimum sentence in such cases. Perhaps," added he, as a sudden thought struck him, "he might even be induced not to press the prosecution, in which event the men would be discharged."

"Thank you, monsieur," said the Count, rising. "I will act upon your wise suggestion without delay. But can you grant me a small favor? Can you allow me a brief interview with the man calling himself Peppino?"

"Undoubtedly," answered the chief, in a cordial voice, "and I shall be very glad to do so if it will assist you any."

"It will enable me to assure the man that I am at work and have some hope of success."

"Then follow me."

The chief, who had remained standing out of compliment to the Count, took a large key from a rack behind his desk and opened a door leading into a long, dimly-lighted corridor. Monte-Cristo followed him through this gloomy passage until they came to a cell before which the chief stopped. The large key grated in the lock, the door of the cell swung open with an ominous sound and the Count found himself face to face with the former Roman bandit.

Peppino was sitting on the edge of an iron bedstead, the very picture of despair. He thought that Monte-Cristo had deserted him, that he would not interfere even with the prospect of obtaining the details of the plot against young Massetti. As the Count entered the cell his countenance brightened instantly and hope was renewed in his bosom. The chief discreetly withdrew, saying as he did so:

"I will wait without, in the corridor."

With these words he closed the door of the cell and Monte-Cristo found himself alone with Peppino.

All the light that made its way into the gloomy cell came through a small grated window high up in the wall, placed at such a distance from the floor that no prisoner could reach it even by climbing upon his bedstead. The walls and ceiling were of stone.

"Well," asked Peppino, "how has your Excellency succeeded?"

"I have made but little progress as yet, though I hope to be able to do something for you and Beppo in a very short time," answered the Count, in a reassuring voice.

"I am satisfied," said Peppino, cheerily. "If your Excellency only determines upon it, Beppo and myself will shortly be free!"

"I cannot go that far, my good fellow, but I can and do promise you all my aid and influence can effect."

"They will effect everything necessary, Signor Count," replied the Italian, confidently.

"Do not hope for too much, Peppino. I have told you that Paris is different from Rome."

"I have occasion now to know that," rejoined the outlaw, bitterly. "But the power of the Count of Monte-Cristo is the same here as in the campagna!"

"Keep up a stout heart, at all events, my good fellow. We shall soon know what can be done."

"I will keep up a stout heart, Signor Count, for I have perfect faith in you!"

"So be it. Now, my man, what do you know about the plot against the Viscount Massetti?"

"Pardon me, Signor Count," said the Italian, shrewdly, "but I will tell you that when Beppo and myself are at liberty!"

Monte-Cristo smiled at the man's cunning.

"At least," he said, "tell me if you have seen the Viscount recently."

"I will do that, your Excellency. I saw him a very short time ago in Rome and afterwards with Luigi Vampa and Pasquale Solara in the marshy country beyond the Trastavere."

"What brought you and your companion to Paris?"

"We had a disagreement with old Solara, whom Luigi Vampa insisted we should obey implicitly. Solara was a tyrant; besides, he was as greedy and avaricious as a miser; he wanted everything for himself and would allow us nothing; he demanded that all the booty we acquired should be brought directly to him without division, stating that he would parcel out our shares; this he invariably failed to do and naturally we rebelled. Vampa, who has become, if he was not always so, old Pasquale's fast friend, decided against us whenever we carried our complaints to him. Finally we could stand it no longer; we were absolutely starving while Solara was heaping up riches, so we determined to quit the band. We did so and came to Paris, where we have been ever since."

"I will not ask you what you have been doing in Paris," said Monte-Cristo, smiling faintly; "in fact, I need not ask you, for I know; the chief of the poste has told me; but will you promise me to lead a better life in future and to try to induce Beppo to do the same, if I should succeed in effecting your release?"

"I cannot promise you that," replied the Italian, with averted eyes, "but I will promise you to return to Rome and take Beppo with me."

"That will do as well, or almost as well," said the Count. "Armed with such a promise, I think I can obtain your freedom. But you must swear to me to leave France immediately after you have been set at liberty, and I shall consider your oath as binding upon Beppo also."

"I swear to leave France the very moment I am free! I swear, too, that Beppo shall accompany me!"

"It is well," said the Count. "I shall be here again this afternoon or to-morrow at the furthest; but remember that before you leave this cell you must give me the full details of the conspiracy against young Massetti!"

"I shall remember it, Signor Count; have no fear of that! When I have spoken old Solara must look out for himself!"

"What do you mean by that?" asked Monte-Cristo, sharply.

"Never mind at present, Signor Count! I will make everything clear to you on your return."

The Deputy from Marseilles quitted the cell and the poste, after having thanked the chief for his courtesy. He drove without delay to the office of the Procureur de la RÉpublique in the Palais de Justice, and it was not long before he had matters satisfactorily arranged. The Procureur cheerfully agreed not to push the charge against the Italians on condition that Monte-Cristo pledged himself they should leave Paris immediately after the Juge d' Instruction had discharged them. This pledge the Count made without the slightest hesitation, and it was decided that the Juge d' Instruction should hold his formal examination at the poste that afternoon, when the Procureur would appear through his Deputy and order the cessation of the proceedings for full and sufficient reasons. The Procureur agreed to notify the Count of the exact hour of the examination that he might be present and ready to execute his share of the compact.

As Monte-Cristo drove back to the mansion of the Rue du Helder he could not help feeling considerably agitated. What was he about to learn from Peppino, and how would the Italian's disclosures affect Massetti? These were problems that the next few hours were destined to solve.