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THE COUNT OF MONTE-CRISTO.
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The clock of the Invalides struck a quarter to twelve; the west wind bore on its moistened gusts the doleful vibration of the three strokes, As the last stroke died away, the count thought he heard a slight noise in the dressing-room; this first sound, or rather this first grinding, was
followed by a second; then a third; at the fourth, the count knew what to expect. A firm and well-practiced hand was engaged in cutting the four sides of a pane of glass with a diamond. The count felt his heart beat more rapidly.
Inured as men may be to danger, forewarned as they may be of