"Maldar," the count cried aloud, "I am here."

The door was opened. Monte-Cristo went into a large courtyard. Maldar was waiting for him.

"Here I am," said the count. "You have called me about the ransom for my son. What is the sum you ask?"

"I did not say it should be money."

"Then take my life—anything you wish."

"What I want of you is neither gold nor your life. I know who you are, and the position you occupy in your country. Your countrymen have confidence in you, and I—"

"Go on—go on," urged Monte-Cristo.

"Have patience. Come here and write."

Maldar went toward a table upon which were writing materials, and, pressing a pen in Monte-Cristo's hand, he shoved a piece of paper toward him.

The count was silent, and seated himself at the table.

"I, the Count of Monte-Cristo," the Arabian began to dictate, "inform the Governor of Themcen that I am at Uargla, and have won the confidence of the Sultan Maldar. More than one hundred French prisoners are in the Kiobeh. The Khouans are not numerous and do not anticipate an attack. The defile of Bab-el-Zhur is easy to reach and only poorly defended. A force of bold soldiers could secure possession of the city in an easy manner. Success is certain."

Monte-Cristo, without hesitation, had written the words down, and the Arabian, looking sharply at him, continued:

"Put your name under what you have just written—"

"One word more," interrupted the count. "I understand your aim. You want to lead a French detachment in ambush?"

"Yes. For the head of your son, I require those of a hundred Frenchmen."

"Spero," cried the count, "my darling boy, should I, your father, ensnare one hundred Frenchmen into an ambush? I have written the letter, the signature alone is missing; hear me, while I read it to you."

Monte-Cristo, in a trembling voice, read the letter.

"Spero, my son, choose between life and death. Shall I sign the letter?"

"You cannot hear his voice," said Maldar; "but wait a moment, and I will have him brought here."

He motioned with his hand. The door was thrown open, and the next minute Spero lay in his father's arms.

"Speak, Spero, what shall I do?"

The boy took the paper and tore it into pieces.

"Let them kill us," he said, firmly.

When Maldar heard these words, he gave a wild yell and sprang upon the boy.

"Wretched worm!" he hissed; "are you aware that I can break every bone in your body?"

Saying this, Maldar drew a long pistol from his belt and pointed it at the boy's face. Quick as thought Monte-Cristo seized the Arab by the throat, and threw him among the Khouans.

"Fire—fire!" shouted Maldar.

The men obeyed, but not a bullet entered the room.

"Put your arms about my neck, Spero," said the count, "and have no fear. Away with the Count of Monte-Cristo," he added in a vibrating voice; "Edmond Dantes, arise from out of the past, and help a father to rescue his son."