“Ah, ’pon my word, yes,” said Porthos and D’Artagnan at the same time. “I think we are getting at the proper means.”

“Inform the queen!” said Athos. “And how? Have we any friends at court? Can we send any one to Paris without its being known in the camp? It is a hundred and forty leagues from here to Paris; before our letter reached Angers we should be in a dungeon.”

“As to sending a letter safely to her Majesty,” said Aramis, “I will take that on myself. I know a clever person at Tours—”

Aramis stopped on seeing Athos smile.

“Well, do you not adopt this means, Athos?” asked D’Artagnan.

“I do not reject it altogether,” said Athos, “but I wish to remind Aramis that he cannot quit the camp, and that no one but one of us can be trusted; that two hours after the messenger has set out, all the capuchins, all the alguazils, all the black caps of the cardinal, will know your letter by heart, and you and your clever person will be arrested. Allow me to give Grimaud some indispensable orders.”

Athos made a sign for his lackey to draw near.

“Grimaud,” said Athos, pointing to the bodies which lay in the bastion, “take those gentlemen, set them up against the wall, put their hats on their heads, and their guns in their hands.”

“Oh, great man!” cried D’Artagnan, “I understand now.”

“This milady—this woman—this creature—this demon has a brother-in-law, as I think you have told me, D’Artagnan?”

“Yes, I know him very well; and I also believe that he has not a very warm affection for his sister-in-law.”

“There is no harm in that; if he detested her, it would be all the better,” replied Athos.

“In that case, we are as well off as we could wish.”

“What is her brother-in-law’s name?”

“Lord Winter.”

“Where is he now?”

“He returned to London at the first rumour of war.”

“Well, he’s just the man we want,” said Athos; “we must warn him. We will send him word that his sister- in-law is on the point of assassinating some one, and we will beg of him not to lose sight of her. There is in London, I hope, some establishment like that of the Magdalens, or of the Repentant Women. He will place his sister in one of these, and we are in peace.”

“But I think it would be still better,” said Aramis, “to inform the queen and Lord Winter at the same time.”

“Yes; but who is to carry the letter to Tours, and who the letter to London?”

“I answer for Bazin,” said Aramis.

“And I for Planchet,” said D’Artagnan.

“That is so,” said Porthos; “if we cannot leave the camp, our lackeys may.”