It was indeed by this mysterious path that Esperance had gone. When he heard that Jane was not to be found, he at first could hardly comprehend what was said. He ran to Jane's room and looked about, then scarce knowing what he did, he left the house and then returned to it, after having wandered over Paris for two or three hours. No one noticed his pallor when he entered the hÔtel. He went to Jane's room again, and there, lying back in a low chair, he looked about with sad eyes.

Suddenly he saw a panel slowly open in the wall. He was not afraid. Esperance did not know the sensation, and now he simply expected some revelation. He instantly knew that this was the path by which Jane had been taken away. He rose and entered the dark corridor. He had no light, and the door at once closed behind him; but he had inherited his father's singular power of seeing in the dark.

He discovered the stairs, and began to descend them. He went on and on, and then another corridor, and then more stairs. Finally he reached a door, which he opened, and entered a large room hung with silk. It was one of the houses which had been so useful to Monte-Cristo years before. The path by which Esperance had come crossed the Champs ElysÉes under ground, and communicated with this house.

All was magnificent, but Esperance saw nothing. Nothing but a lacquer table on which lay a letter. This letter contained the words, "If the son of Monte-Cristo be not a coward, if he wishes to find her whom he has lost, he will go from here to a certain Malvernet, who lives at Courberrie. There he will learn what he wishes to know, and will act as he deems best."

Esperance was delighted. He did not stop to think of the singularity of finding this note in this place. What did he care for this mystery that surrounded him? He had found Jane Zeld, or rather he had found traces of her. He went to the chimney to look at the clock, for he had lost all idea of time, and happening to see his own face in the mirror, he could not repress a start. He looked to himself at least ten years older than when he last stood before a mirror. He wondered at himself, when he remembered his father, whose youth seemed eternal, in spite of the trials through which he had passed. When he went out from the hÔtel the first time he had mechanically put in his pocket a pair of revolvers—he had them now.