The Count of Monte Cristo

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shuddered at the click of the trigger as he cocked the pistol. At this
moment of mortal anguish the cold sweat came forth upon his brow, a pang
stronger than death clutched at his heart-strings. He heard the door of
the staircase creak on its hinges--the clock gave its warning to strike
eleven--the door of his study opened; Morrel did not turn round--he
expected these words of Cocles, "The agent of Thomson & French."

He placed the muzzle of the pistol between his teeth. Suddenly he heard
a cry--it was his daughter's voice. He turned and saw Julie. The pistol
fell from his hands. "My father!" cried the young girl, out of breath,
and half dead with joy--"saved, you are saved!" And she threw herself
into his arms, holding in her extended hand a red, netted silk purse.

"Saved, my child!" said Morrel; "what do you mean?"

"Yes, saved--saved! See, see!" said the young girl.