“I do not know that. What I do know is that he is a creature of the cardinal’s, his ready tool.”

“But you have seen him?”

“Yes, my wife pointed him out to me one day.”

“Has he anything remarkable about him by which he may be recognized?”

“Oh, certainly. He is a noble of lofty carriage, black hair, swarthy complexion, piercing eye, white teeth, and a scar on his temple.”

“A scar on his temple!” cried D’Artagnan; “and also white teeth, a piercing eye, dark complexion, black hair, and haughty carriage. Why, that’s my man of Meung.”

“He is your man, do you say?”

“Yes, yes; but that has nothing to do with it. No I am mistaken. It simplifies the matter greatly, on the contrary. If your man is mine, with one blow I shall obtain two revenges, that’s all. But where is this man to be met with?”

“I cannot inform you.”

“Have you no information respecting his dwelling?”

“None. One day, as I was conveying my wife back to the Louvre, he was coming out as she was going in, and she showed him to me.”

“The devil, the devil!” murmured D’Artagnan. “All this is vague enough. From whom did you learn the abduction of your wife?”

“From M. de la Porte.”

“Did he give you any of the particulars?”

“He knew none himself.”

“And you have learned none from any other quarter?”

“Yes, I have received——”

“What?”

“I fear I am committing a great imprudence.”

“You still keep harping upon that; but I beg leave to observe to you that this time it is too late to retreat.”

“I do not retreat, ’sdeath!” cried the bourgeois, swearing to keep his courage up. “Besides, by the word of Bonacieux——”

“Your name is Bonacieux?” interrupted D’Artagnan.

“Yes, that is my name.”

“You said, then, by the word of Bonacieux! Pardon me for interrupting you, but it appears to me that that name is familiar to me.”

“Very possibly, sir. I am your landlord.”