to arrange everything for immediate departure, and wrapped
in their large cloaks left in search of their game.
The night was dark, snow was falling, the streets were
silent and deserted. D'Artagnan led the way through the
intricate windings and narrow alleys of the city and ere
long they had reached the house in question. For a moment
D'Artagnan thought that Parry's brother had disappeared; but
he was mistaken. The robust Scotchman, accustomed to the
snows of his native hills, had stretched himself against a
post, and like a fallen statue, insensible to the inclemency
of the weather, had allowed the snow to cover him. He rose,
however, as they approached.
"Come," said Athos, "here's another good servant. Really,
honest men are not so scarce as I thought."
"Don't be in a hurry to weave crowns for our Scotchman. I
believe the fellow is here on his own account, for I have
heard that these gentlemen born beyond the Tweed are very
vindictive. I should not like to be Groslow, if he meets
him."
"Well?" said Athos, to the man, in English.
"No one has come out," he replied.
"Then, Porthos and Aramis, will you remain with this man
while we go around to Grimaud?"
Grimaud had made himself a kind of sentry box out of a
hollow willow, and as they drew near he put his head out and
gave a low whistle.
"Soho!" cried Athos.
"Yes," said Grimaud.
"Well, has anybody come out?"
"No, but somebody has gone in."
"A man or a woman?"
"A man."
"Ah! ah!" said D'Artagnan, "there are two of them, then!"
"I wish there were four," said Athos; "the two parties would
then be equal."
"Perhaps there are four," said D'Artagnan.
"What do you mean?"
"Other men may have entered before them and waited for
them."
"We can find out," said Grimaud. At the same time he pointed
to a window, through the shutters of which a faint light
streamed.
"That is true," said D'Artagnan, "let us call the others."
They returned around the house to fetch Porthos and Aramis.
"Have you seen anything?" they asked.
"No, but we are going to," replied D'Artagnan, pointing to
Grimaud, who had already climbed some five or six feet from
the ground.
All four came up together. Grimaud continued to climb like a
cat and succeeded at last in catching hold of a hook, which
served to keep one of the shutters back when opened. Then
resting his foot on a small ledge he made a sign to show all
was right.
"Well?" asked D'Artagnan.
Grimaud showed his closed hand, with two fingers spread out.
"Speak," said Athos; "we cannot see your signs. How many are
there?"
"Two. One opposite to me, the other with his back to me."
"Good. And the man opposite to you is ----
"The man I saw go in."
"Do you know him?"
"I thought I recognized him, and was not mistaken. Short and
stout."
"Who is it?" they all asked together in a low tone.
"General Oliver Cromwell."
The four friends looked at one another.
"And the other?" asked Athos.
"Thin and lanky."
"The executioner," said D'Artagnan and Aramis at the same
time.
"I can see nothing but his back," resumed Grimaud. "But
wait. He is moving; and if he has taken off his mask I shall
be able to see. Ah ---- "
And as if struck in the heart he let go the hook and dropped
with a groan.
"Did you see him?" they all asked.
Yes," said Grimaud, with his hair standing on end.
"The thin, spare man?"
"Yes."
"The executioner, in short?" asked Aramis.
"Yes."
"And who is it?" said Porthos.
"He -- he -- is ---- " murmured Grimaud, pale as a ghost and
seizing his master's hand.
"Who? He?" asked Athos.
"Mordaunt," replied Grimaud.
D'Artagnan, Porthos and Aramis uttered a cry of joy.
Athos stepped back and passed his hand across his brow.
"Fatality!" he muttered.
68
Cromwell's House.
It was, in fact, Mordaunt whom D'Artagnan had followed,
without knowing it. On entering the house he had taken off
his mask and imitation beard, then, mounting a staircase,
had opened a door, and in a room lighted by a single lamp
found himself face to face with a man seated behind a desk.
This man was Cromwell.
Cromwell had two or three of these retreats in London,
unknown except to the most intimate of his friends. Mordaunt
was among these.
"It is you, Mordaunt," he said. "You are late."
"General, I wished to see the ceremony to the end, which
delayed me."
"Ah! I scarcely thought you were so curious as that."
"I am always curious to see the downfall of your honor's
enemies, and he was not among the least of them. But you,
general, were you not at Whitehall?"
"No," said Cromwell.
There was a moment's silence.
"Have you had any account of it?"
"None. I have been here since the morning. I only know that
there was a conspiracy to rescue the king."
"Ah, you knew that?" said Mordaunt.
"It matters little. Four men, disguised as workmen, were to
get the king out of prison and take him to Greenwich, where
a vessel was waiting."
"And knowing all that, your honor remained here, far from
the city, tranquil and inactive."
"Tranquil, yes," replied Cromwell. "But who told you I was
inactive?"
"But -- if the plot had succeeded?"
"I wished it to do so."
"I thought your excellence considered the death of Charles
I. as a misfortune necessary to the welfare of England."
"Yes, his death; but it would have been more seemly not upon
the scaffold."
"Why so?" asked Mordaunt.
Cromwell smiled. "Because it could have been said that I had
had him condemned for the sake of justice and had let him
escape out of pity."
"But if he had escaped?"
"Impossible; my precautions were taken."
"And does your honor know the four men who undertook to
rescue him?"
"The four Frenchmen, of whom two were sent by the queen to
her husband and two by Mazarin to me."
"And do you think Mazarin commissioned them to act as they
have done?"
"It is possible. But he will not avow it."
"How so?"
"Because they failed."
"Your honor gave me two of these Frenchmen when they were
only guilty of fighting for Charles I. Now that they are
guilty of a conspiracy against England will your honor give
me all four of them?"
"Take them," said Cromwell.
Mordaunt bowed with a smile of triumphant ferocity.
"Did the people shout at all?" Cromwell asked.
"Very little, except `Long live Cromwell!'"
"Where were you placed?"
Mordaunt tried for a moment to read in the general's face if
this was simply a useless question, or whether he knew
everything. But his piercing eyes could by no means
penetrate the sombre depths of Cromwell's.
"I was so situated as to hear and see everything," he
answered.
It was now Cromwell's turn to look fixedly at Mordaunt, and
Mordaunt to make himself impenetrable.
"It appears," said Cromwell, "that this improvised
executioner did his duty remarkably well. The blow, so they
tell me at least, was struck with a master's hand."
Mordaunt remembered that Cromwell had told him he had had no
detailed account, and he was now quite convinced that the
general had been present at the execution, hidden behind
some screen or curtain.
"In fact," said Mordaunt, with a calm voice and immovable
countenance, "a single blow sufficed."
"Perhaps it was some one in that occupation," said Cromwell.
"Do you think so, sir? He did not look like an executioner."
"And who else save an executioner would have wished to fill
that horrible office?"
"But," said Mordaunt, "it might have been some personal
enemy of the king, who had made a vow of vengeance and
accomplished it in this way. Perhaps it was some man of rank
who had grave reasons for hating the fallen king, and who,
learning that the king was about to flee and escape him,
threw himself in the way, with a mask on his face and an axe
in his hand, not as substitute for the executioner, but as
an ambassador of Fate."
"Possibly."
"And if that were the case would your honor condemn his
action?"
"It is not for me to judge. It rests between his conscience
and his God."
"But if your honor knew this man?"
"I neither know nor wish to know him. Provided Charles is
dead, it is the axe, not the man, we must thank."
"And yet, without the man, the king would have been
rescued."
Cromwell smiled.
"They would have carried him to Greenwich," he said, "and
put him on board a felucca with five barrels of powder in
the hold. Once out to sea, you are too good a politician not
to understand the rest, Mordaunt."
"Yes, they would have all been blown up."
"Just so. The explosion would have done what the axe had
failed to do. Men would have said that the king had escaped
human justice and been overtaken by God's. You see now why I
did not care to know your gentleman in the mask; for really,
in spite of his excellent intentions, I could not thank him
for what he has done."
Mordaunt bowed humbly. "Sir," he said, "you are a profound
thinker and your plan was sublime."
"Say absurd, since it has become useless. The only sublime
ideas in politics are those which bear fruit. So to-night,
Mordaunt, go to Greenwich and ask for the captain of the
felucca Lightning. Show him a white handkerchief knotted at
the four corners and tell the crew to disembark and carry
the powder back to the arsenal, unless, indeed ---- "
"Unless?" said Mordaunt, whose face was lighted by a savage
joy as Cromwell spoke:
"This skiff might be of use to you for personal projects."
"Oh, my lord, my lord!"
"That title," said Cromwell, laughing, "is all very well
here, but take care a word like that does not escape your
lips in public."
"But your honor will soon be called so generally."
"I hope so, at least," said Cromwell, rising and putting on
his cloak.
"You are going, sir?"
"Yes," said Cromwell. "I slept here last night and the night
before, and you know it is not my custom to sleep three
times in the same bed."
"Then," said Mordaunt, "your honor gives me my liberty for
to-night?"
"And even for all day to-morrow, if you want it. Since last
evening," he added, smiling, "you have done enough in my
service, and if you have any personal matters to settle it
is just that I should give you time."
"Thank you, sir; it will be well employed, I hope."
Cromwell turned as he was going.
"Are you armed?" he asked.
"I have my sword."
"And no one waiting for you outside?"
"No."
"Then you had better come with me."
"Thank you, sir, but the way by the subterranean passage
would take too much time and I have none to lose."
Cromwell placed his hand on a hidden handle and opened a
door so well concealed by the tapestry that the most
practiced eye could not have discovered it. It closed after
him with a spring. This door communicated with a
subterranean passage, leading under the street to a grotto
in the garden of a house about a hundred yards from that of
the future Protector.
It was just before this that Grimaud had perceived the two
men seated together.
D'Artagnan was the first to recover from his surprise.
"Mordaunt," he cried. "Ah! by Heaven! it is God Himself who
sent us here."
"Yes," said Porthos, "let us break the door in and fall upon
him."
"No," replied D'Artagnan, "no noise. Now, Grimaud, you come
here, climb up to the window again and tell us if Mordaunt
is alone and whether he is preparing to go out or go to bed.
If he comes out we shall catch him. If he stays in we will
break in the window. It is easier and less noisy than the
door."
Grimaud began to scale the wall again.
"Keep guard at the other door, Athos and Aramis. Porthos and
I will stay here."
The friends obeyed.
"He is alone," said Grimaud.
"We did not see his companion come out."
"He may have gone by the other door."
"What is he doing?"
"Putting on his cloak and gloves."
"He's ours," muttered D'Artagnan.
Porthos mechanically drew his dagger from the scabbard.
"Put it up again, my friend," said D'Artagnan. "We must
proceed in an orderly manner."
"Hush!" said Grimaud, "he is coming out. He has put out the
lamp, I can see nothing now."
"Get down then and quickly."
Grimaud leaped down. The snow deadened the noise of his
fall.
"Now go and tell Athos and Aramis to stand on each side of
the door and clap their hands if they catch him. We will do
the same."
The next moment the door opened and Mordaunt appeared on the
threshold, face to face with D'Artagnan. Porthos clapped his
hands and the other two came running around. Mordaunt was
