It ought to do so, at least.

　　"Yes, monsieur, one and twenty years ago; and since then wehave not seen the poor marquis three times."

　　"Thanks, thanks," said Monte Cristo, judging from thesteward's utter prostration that he could not stretch thecord further without danger of breaking it. "Give me alight."

　　"Shall I accompany you, monsieur?"

　　"No, it is unnecessary; Bertuccio will show me a light." AndMonte Cristo accompanied these words by the gift of two goldpieces, which produced a torrent of thanks and blessingsfrom the concierge. "Ah, monsieur," said he, after havingvainly searched on the mantle-piece and the shelves, "I havenot got any candles."

　　"Take one of the carriage-lamps, Bertuccio," said the count,"and show me the apartments." The steward obeyed in silence,but it was easy to see, from the manner in which the handthat held the light trembled, how much it cost him to obey.They went over a tolerably large ground-floor; a secondfloor consisted of a salon, a bathroom, and two bedrooms;near one of the bedrooms they came to a winding staircasethat led down to the garden.

　　"Ah, here is a private staircase," said the count; "that isconvenient. Light me, M. Bertuccio, and go first; we willsee where it leads to."

　　"Monsieur," replied Bertuccio, "it leads to the garden."

　　"And, pray, how do you know that?"

　　"It ought to do so, at least."

　　"Well, let us be sure of that." Bertuccio sighed, and wenton first; the stairs did, indeed, lead to the garden. At theouter door the steward paused. "Go on, Monsieur Bertuccio,"said the count. But he who was addressed stood there,stupefied, bewildered, stunned; his haggard eyes glancedaround, as if in search of the traces of some terribleevent, and with his clinched hands he seemed striving toshut out horrible recollections. "Well," insisted the Count."No, no," cried Bertuccio, setting down the lantern at theangle of the interior wall. "No, monsieur, it is impossible;I can go no farther."

　　"What does this mean?" demanded the irresistible voice ofMonte Cristo.

　　"Why, you must see, your excellency," cried the steward,"that this is not natural; that, having a house to purchase,you purchase it exactly at Auteuil, and that, purchasing itat Auteuil, this house should be No. 28, Rue de la Fontaine.Oh, why did I not tell you all? I am sure you would not haveforced me to come. I hoped your house would have been someother one than this; as if there was not another house atAuteuil than that of the assassination!"