"Do not dig any more," said the voice; "only tell me how high up is your excavation?"
"On a level with the floor."
"How is it concealed?"
"Behind my bed."
"Has your bed been moved since you have been a prisoner?"
"No."
"What does your chamber open on?"
"A corridor."
"And the corridor?"
"On a court."
"Alas!" murmured the voice.
"Oh, what is the matter?" cried Dantès.
"I am deceived, and the imperfection of my plans has ruined all. An error of a line in the plan has been equivalent to fifteen feet in reality, and I took the wall you are mining for the wall of the fortress."
"But then you would end at the sea?"
"That is what I hoped."
"And supposing you succeeded?"
"I should have thrown myself into the sea, gained one of the islands near here, — the Isle de Daume or the Isle de Tiboulen, — and then I was safe."
"Could you have swum so far?"
"Heaven would have given me strength; but now all is lost."
"All?"
"Yes; stop up your excavation carefully; do not work any more, and wait until you hear from me."
"Tell me, at least, who you are."
"I am — I am No. 27."
"You mistrust me, then," said Dantès.
Edmond fancied he heard a bitter laugh proceed from the unknown.
"Oh, I am a Christian," cried Dantès, guessing instinctively that this man meant to abandon him. "I swear to you by Him who died for us that I will die rather than breathe one syllable of the truth to our jailers; but, I conjure you, do not abandon me. Let me know you are near, let me hear your voice. If you do abandon me, I swear to you that I will dash my brains out against the wall, and you will have my death to reproach yourself with."
"How old are you? Your voice is that of a young man."
"I do not know my age, for I have not counted the years I have been here. All I do know is that I was just nineteen when I was arrested, the 28th of February, 1815."
