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"And on this dagger a piece of parchment is fastened." Monte-Cristo carefully unrolled the scrap of paper and read the following, written with blood, in Arabian characters: "Maldar to Monte-Cristo. The poor man who trusts in Allah is richer than the nobleman who fights against him. Beware of the Khouans!" "Who are the Khouans, papa?" "I shall tell you later on there is no time to lose now. Come!"
A Khouan appeared, but the iron bar with which Monte-Cristo had armed himself descended on his head with terrific force. A second and third received the same reception. Maldar, wild with rage, continually screamed: "Kill him, in the name of Allah!" Monte-Cristo was struck by a ball, and a dagger was thrust in his foot. But he paid no attention to it.
Meanwhile Maldar and his Khouan followers were dashing along at a rapid pace on the fleet Arab coursers with which they were provided. One of the party bore Esperance before him on his saddle. The boy had not been aroused from his lethargic sleep by the abduction and subsequent flight. He slept peacefully and profoundly.
When Monte-Cristo had reached the foot of the Kiobeh, Medje said: "It is here." "Light the torches!" commanded Monte-Cristo. It was done. "In the name of Allah, the merciful and charitable God," exclaimed the count. Three times he repeated the words. For a time all was silent. After a while the door of the fortress opened and Maldar appeared on the threshold.
"When you flung me over the battlements of Ouargla, you fancied you had killed me; but Maldar bears a charmed life and will have a bitter revenge!" The intruder was indeed Maldar, the Sultan, who by some miracle had escaped Monte-Cristo's vengeance.
"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.
As he spoke he shook his fist in the direction of the Count, who was sitting at the table with the rest of Fanfar's guests, though his sombre air and clouded brow told that, while preserving his outward calmness, he yet suspected the presence of a deadly foe. Maldar had removed his sandals, and his footsteps were noiseless.
You are in possession of old Faria's secrets and science, but you are powerless against Death. You have triumphed over Villefort, Morcerf, Danglars, Benedetto and Maldar, but you cannot triumph over Death! Remember that you are only a man!
"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.
The heroic lad gazed full in Maldar's face and, without the quiver of a muscle, answered defiantly: "Wretch that you are to war on defenceless children, I do not fear you! Harm but a single hair of my head, and Monte-Cristo will grind you into dust!" Maldar replied with a sneer: "Monte-Cristo, the infidel charlatan, is miles away. With all his boasted power he can do nothing to aid you.
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