“That’s easily done,” said Aramis.

He folded the letter coquettishly, took it, and wrote,

“To Mademoiselle Michon, seamstress, Tours.”

The three friends looked at each other and laughed; they were caught.

“Now,” said Aramis, “you understand, gentlemen, that Bazin is the only person who can carry this letter to Tours. My cousin knows no one but Bazin, and places confidence in no one else; any other person would fail. Besides, Bazin is ambitious and learned; Bazin has read history, gentlemen. He knows that Sixtus V. became pope after having tended pigs. Then, as he means to enter holy orders at the same time as myself, he does not despair of becoming a pope in his turn, or at least a cardinal. You understand that a man who has such views will never allow himself to be taken, or if taken, will undergo martyrdom rather than speak.”

“Well, well,” said D’Artagnan, “I grant you Bazin with all my heart, but let me have Planchet. Milady one day had him turned out of doors, with a sound caning. Now Planchet has an excellent memory, and I will be bound that if he can see possible means of vengeance, he will let himself be beaten to death rather than fail. If your affairs of Tours are your affairs, Aramis, those of London are mine. I beg, then, that Planchet may be chosen, especially as he has already been to London with me, and knows how to say very correctly, London, sir, if you please, and, My master, Lord d’Artagnan. With that, you may be satisfied, he can make his way, both going and returning.”

“In that case,” said Athos, “Planchet must receive seven hundred livres for going, and seven hundred livres for coming back; and Bazin, three hundred livres for going, and three hundred livres for coming back. That will reduce the sum to five thousand livres. We will each take a thousand livres, to be employed as seems good to each, and we will leave a fund of a thousand livres, in the guardianship of the abbé here, for extraordinary occasions or common necessities. Does that suit you?”

“My dear Athos,” said Aramis, “you speak like Nestor.”

Planchet was sent for, and instructions were given him. He had already been notified by D’Artagnan, who had shown him first the glory, next the money, and then the danger.

“I will carry the letter in the lining of my coat,” said Planchet, “and if I am taken I will swallow it.”

“Well, but then you will not be able to fulfil your commission,” said D’Artagnan.

“You will give me a copy of it this evening, and I will know it by heart before morning.”

D’Artagnan looked at his friends, as if to say, “Well, what did I promise you?”

“Now,” continued he, addressing Planchet, “you have eight days to get to Lord Winter, you have eight days to return in—in all sixteen days; if on the sixteenth day after your departure, at eight o’clock in the evening, you are not here, no money, even if it be but five minutes past eight.”

“Ah, sir!”said Planchet, “I will succeed, or I will consent to be quartered; and if they quarter me, be assured that not a morsel of me will speak.”

In the morning, as he was mounting his horse, D’Artagnan, who felt at the bottom of his heart a partiality for the duke, took Planchet aside.

“Listen,” said he to him. “When you have given the letter to Lord Winter, and he has read it, you will further say to him, ‘Watch over his Grace, Lord Buckingham, for there is a plot to assassinate him.’ But,