“And what on earth are you going to do with it?” asked Athos.

“Can’t you guess, my dear Athos?  You, who speak English like John Bull himself, are Master Tom Lowe, we, your three companions.  Do you understand it now?”

Athos uttered a cry of joy and admiration, ran to a closet and drew forth workmen’s clothes, which the four friends immediately put on; they then left the hotel, Athos carrying a saw, Porthos a vise, Aramis an axe and D’Artagnan a hammer and some nails.

The letter from the executioner’s assistant satisfied the master carpenter that those were the men he expected.

65

The Workmen.

Toward midnight Charles heard a great noise beneath his window.  It arose from blows of hammer and hatchet, clinking of pincers and cranching of saws.

Lying dressed upon his bed, the noise awoke him with a start and found a gloomy echo in his heart.  He could not endure it, and sent Parry to ask the sentinel to beg the workmen to strike more gently and not disturb the last slumber of one who had been their king.  The sentinel was unwilling to leave his post, but allowed Parry to pass.

Arriving at the window Parry found an unfinished scaffold, over which they were nailing a covering of black serge.  Raised to the height of twenty feet, so as to be on a level with the window, it had two lower stories.  Parry, odious as was this sight to him, sought for those among some eight or ten workmen who were making the most noise; and fixed on two men, who were loosening the last hooks of the iron balcony.

“My friends,” said Parry, mounting the scaffold and standing beside them, “would you work a little more quietly?  The king wishes to get a sleep.”

One of the two, who was standing up, was of gigantic size and was driving a pick with all his might into the wall, whilst the other, kneeling beside him, was collecting the pieces of stone.  The face of the first was lost to Parry in the darkness; but as the second turned around and placed his finger on his lips Parry started back in amazement.

“Very well, very well,” said the workman aloud, in excellent English.  “Tell the king that if he sleeps badly to-night he will sleep better to-morrow night.”

These blunt words, so terrible if taken literally, were received by the other workmen with a roar of laughter.  But Parry withdrew, thinking he was dreaming.

Charles was impatiently awaiting his return.  At the moment he re-entered, the sentinel who guarded the door put his head through the opening, curious as to what the king was doing.  The king was lying on his bed, resting on his elbow.  Parry closed the door and approaching the king, his face radiant with joy: 

“Sire,” he said, in a low voice, “do you know who these workmen are who are making so much noise?”

“I?  No; how would you have me know?”

Parry bent his head and whispered to the king:  “It is the Comte de la Fere and his friends.”