stationed in the balcony on the lookout. "Here comes M.
Morrel back. No doubt, now, we shall hear that our friend is
released!"

Mercedes and the old man rushed to meet the shipowner and
greeted him at the door. He was very pale.

"What news?" exclaimed a general burst of voices.

"Alas, my friends," replied M. Morrel, with a mournful shake
of his head, "the thing has assumed a more serious aspect
than I expected."

"Oh, indeed -- indeed, sir, he is innocent!" sobbed forth
Mercedes.

"That I believe!" answered M. Morrel; "but still he is
charged" --

"With what?" inquired the elder Dantes.

"With being an agent of the Bonapartist faction!" Many of
our readers may be able to recollect how formidable such an
accusation became in the period at which our story is dated.

A despairing cry escaped the pale lips of Mercedes; the old
man sank into a chair.

"Ah, Danglars!" whispered Caderousse, "you have deceived me
-- the trick you spoke of last night has been played; but I