“But if he should be at home and see me?”

“He is not at home; and I will carry away the key, after having placed you in his apartment.”

“But if he should return?”

“Oh, he won’t return; and if he should, he will be told that I have brought a lady with me, and that lady is in his apartment.”

“But that will compromise me sadly, you know.”

“Of what consequence can it be to you? Nobody knows you. Besides, we are in a situation in which we must not be too particular.”

“Come, then, let us go to your friend’s house. Where does he live?”

“Rue Férou, two steps from here.”

“Come, then.”

And both resumed their way. As D’Artagnan had foreseen, Athos was not at home. He took the key, which was usually given him as one of the family, ascended the stairs, and introduced Madame Bonacieux into the little apartment.

“Make yourself at home,” said he. “Wait here, fasten the door inside, and open it to nobody unless you hear three taps like these.” And he tapped thrice—two taps close together and pretty hard, the other after an interval, lighter.

“That is all right,” said Madame Bonacieux. “Now it is my turn to give you my orders.”

“I am all attention.”

“Present yourself at the wicket of the Louvre, towards the Rue de l’Echelle, and ask for Germain.”

“Well, and then?”

“He will ask you what you want, and you will answer by these two words—‘Tours’ and ‘Brussels.’ He will immediately put himself under your orders.”

“And what shall I order him to do?”

“To go and fetch M. de la Porte, the queen’s valet.”

“And when he shall have found him, and M. de la Porte has come?”

“You will send him to me.”

“Very well; but where and how shall I see you again?”

“Do you, then, wish very much to see me again?”

“Certainly I do.”

“Well, let that care be mine, and do not worry.”

“I depend upon your word.”