It was six o'clock in the morning. Dawn was just breaking, its weak light filtering into the cell and making their lamp seem even more pathetic. Strange shadows played across the dead man's face, sometimes giving the illusion of life. While the struggle between day and night continued, Edmond still held onto hope. But once daylight won, he knew he was alone with a corpse.
Then overwhelming terror seized him. He couldn't bring himself to touch the hand hanging off the bed or look into those fixed, empty eyes. He'd tried several times to close them, but they kept opening again. He extinguished the lamp, hid it carefully, and left, sealing the entrance to the secret passage as best he could with the large stone.
It was perfect timing, the jailer was coming. Today he started his rounds at Edmond's cell first, then went to Faria's with breakfast and clean linens. Nothing in his manner suggested he knew what had happened.
