“The scoundrel!” said Aramis.  “While you have been returning hither he will have escaped and we shall never find him.”

“Come, now, Aramis,” said D’Artagnan, “you must be taking me for some one else.”

“Nevertheless,” said Athos, “in your absence ——­ "

“Well, in my absence haven’t I put in my place Grimaud and the Scotchman?  Before he had taken ten steps beyond the door I had examined the house on all sides.  At one of the doors, that by which he had entered, I placed our Scotchman, making a sign to him to follow the man wherever he might go, if he came out again.  Then going around the house I placed Grimaud at the other exit, and here I am.  Our game is beaten up.  Now for the tally-ho.”

Athos threw himself into D’Artagnan’s arms.

“Friend,” he said, “you have been too good in pardoning me; I was wrong, a hundred times wrong.  I ought to have known you better by this time; but we are all possessed of a malignant spirit, which bids us doubt.”

“Humph!” said Porthos.  “Don’t you think the executioner might be Master Cromwell, who, to make sure of this affair, undertook it himself?”

“Ah! just so.  Cromwell is stout and short, and this man thin and lanky, rather tall than otherwise.”

“Some condemned soldier, perhaps,” suggested Athos, “whom they have pardoned at the price of regicide.”

“No, no,” continued D’Artagnan, “it was not the measured step of a foot soldier, nor was it the gait of a horseman.  If I am not mistaken we have to do with a gentleman.”

“A gentleman!” exclaimed Athos.  “Impossible!  It would be a dishonor to all the nobility.”

“Fine sport, by Jove!” cried Porthos, with a laugh that shook the windows.  “Fine sport!”

“Are you still bent on departure, Athos?” asked D’Artagnan.

“No, I remain,” replied Athos, with a threatening gesture that promised no good to whomsoever it was addressed.

“Swords, then!” cried Aramis, “swords! let us not lose a moment.”

The four friends resumed their own clothes, girded on their swords, ordered Mousqueton and Blaisois to pay the bill and to arrange everything for immediate departure, and wrapped in their large cloaks left in search of their game.

The night was dark, snow was falling, the streets were silent and deserted.  D’Artagnan led the way through the intricate windings and narrow alleys of the city and ere long they had reached the house in question.  For a moment D’Artagnan thought that Parry’s brother had disappeared; but he was mistaken.  The robust Scotchman, accustomed to the snows of his native hills, had stretched himself against a post, and like a fallen statue, insensible to the inclemency of the weather, had allowed the snow to cover him.  He rose, however, as they approached.

“Come,” said Athos, “here’s another good servant.  Really, honest men are not so scarce as I thought.”