In fact, Porthos could be heard snoring through the
partition.
“‘Tis God who gives them into our hands,” answered Groslow.
“This time the devil himself shall not save them,” rejoined
Mordaunt.
And they went out together.
72
End of the Port Wine Mystery.
Grimaud waited till he heard the bolt grind in the lock and
when he was satisfied that he was alone he slowly rose from
his recumbent posture.
“Ah!” he said, wiping with his sleeve large drops of sweat
from his forehead, “how lucky it was that Mousqueton was
thirsty!”
He made haste to pass out by the opening, still thinking
himself in a dream; but the sight of the gunpowder in the
tankard proved to him that his dream was a fatal nightmare.
It may be imagined that D’Artagnan listened to these details
with increasing interest; before Grimaud had finished he
rose without noise and putting his mouth to Aramis’s ear,
and at the same time touching him on the shoulder to prevent
a sudden movement:
“Chevalier,” he said, “get up and don’t make the least
noise.”
Aramis awoke. D’Artagnan, pressing his hand, repeated his
call. Aramis obeyed.
“Athos is near you,” said D’Artagnan; “warn him as I have
warned you.”
Aramis easily aroused Athos, whose sleep was light, like
that of all persons of a finely organized constitution. But
there was more difficulty in arousing Porthos. He was
beginning to ask full explanation of that breaking in on his
sleep, which was very annoying to him, when D’Artagnan,
instead of explaining, closed his mouth with his hand.
Then our Gascon, extending his arms, drew to him the heads
of his three friends till they almost touched one another.
“Friends,” he said, “we must leave this craft at once or we
are dead men.”
“Bah!” said Athos, “are you still afraid?”
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“Do you know who is captain of this vessel?”
“No.”
“Captain Groslow.”
The shudder of the three musketeers showed to D’Artagnan
that his words began to make some impression on them.
“Groslow!” said Aramis; “the devil!
“Who is this Groslow?” asked Porthos. “I don’t remember
him.”
“Groslow is the man who broke Parry’s head and is now
getting ready to break ours.”
“Oh! oh!”
“And do you know who is his lieutenant?”
“His lieutenant? There is none,” said Athos. “They don’t
have lieutenants in a felucca manned by a crew of four.”
“Yes, but Monsieur Groslow is not a captain of the ordinary
kind; he has a lieutenant, and that lieutenant is Monsieur
Mordaunt.”
This time the musketeers did more than shudder — they
almost cried out. Those invincible men were subject to a
mysterious and fatal influence which that name had over
them; the mere sound of it filled them with terror.
“What shall we do?” said Athos.
“We must seize the felucca,” said Aramis.
“And kill him,” said Porthos.
“The felucca is mined,” said D’Artagnan. “Those casks which
I took for casks of port wine are filled with powder. When
Mordaunt finds himself discovered he will destroy all,
friends and foes; and on my word he would be bad company in
going either to Heaven or to hell.”
“You have some plan, then?” asked Athos.
“Yes.”
“What is it?”
“Have you confidence in me?”
“Give your orders,” said the three musketeers.
“Very well; come this way.”
D’Artagnan went toward a very small, low window, just large
enough to let a man through. He turned it gently on its
hinges.
“There,” he said, “is our road.”
“The deuce! it is a very cold one, my dear friend,” said
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Aramis.
“Stay here, if you like, but I warn you ’twill be rather too
warm presently.”
“But we cannot swim to the shore.”
“The longboat is yonder, lashed to the felucca. We will take
possession of it and cut the cable. Come, my friends.”
“A moment’s delay,” said Athos; “our servants?”
“Here we are!” they cried.
Meantime the three friends were standing motionless before
the awful sight which D’Artagnan, in raising the shutters,
had disclosed to them through the narrow opening of the
window.
Those who have once beheld such a spectacle know that there