“Holà!” cried Monck in French, approaching the stairs; “holà! fisherman!”
The fisherman, benumbed by the cold night air, replied in a hoarse voice, asking what they wanted of him.
“Go to the post,” said Monck, “and order a sergeant, in the name of General Monck, to come here immediately.”
This was a commission easily performed; for the sergeant, uneasy at the general’s being in that desolate abbey, had drawn nearer by degrees, and was not much further off than the fisherman. The general’s order was therefore heard by him, and he hastened to obey it.
“Get a horse and two men,” said Monck.
“A horse and two men?” repeated the sergeant.
“Yes,” replied Monck. “Have you got any means of getting a horse with a packsaddle or two panniers?”
“No doubt, at a hundred paces off, in the Scottish camp.”
“Very well.”
“What shall I do with the horse, general.”
“Look here.”
The sergeant descended the three steps which separated him from Monck, and came into the vault.
“You see,” said Monck, “that gentleman yonder?”
“Yes, general.”
“And you see these two casks?”
“Perfectly.”
“They are two casks, one containing powder, and the other balls; I wish these casks to be transported to the little hamlet at the mouth of the river, and which I intend to occupy tomorrow with two hundred muskets. You understand that the commission is a secret one, for it is a movement that may decide the fate of the battle.”
“Oh, general!” murmured the sergeant.
“Mind, then! Let these casks be fastened on to the horse, and let them be escorted by two men and you to the residence of this gentleman, who is my friend. But take care that nobody knows it.”
“I would go by the marsh if I knew the road,” said the sergeant.
“I know one myself,” said Athos; “it is not wide, but it is solid, having been made upon piles; and with care we shall get over safely enough.”
“Do everything this gentleman shall order you to do.”
“Oh! oh! the casks are heavy,” said the sergeant, trying to lift one.
“They weigh four hundred pounds each, if they contain what they ought to contain, do they not, Monsieur.”
“Thereabouts,” said Athos.
The sergeant went in search of the two men and the horse. Monck, left alone with Athos, affected to speak to him on nothing but indifferent subjects while examining the vault in a cursory manner. Then, hearing the horse’s steps—
“I leave you with your men, Monsieur,” said he, “and return to the camp. You are perfectly safe.”
“I shall see you again, then, my lord?” asked Athos.
“That is agreed upon, Monsieur, and with much pleasure.”
Monck held out his hand to Athos.
“Ah! my lord, if you would!” murmured Athos.
“Hush! Monsieur, it is agreed that we shall speak no more of that.” And bowing to Athos, he went up the stairs, meeting about halfway his men, who were coming down. He had not gone twenty paces, when a faint but prolonged whistle was heard at a distance. Monck listened, but seeing nothing and hearing nothing, he continued his route. Then he remembered the fisherman, and looked about for him; but the fisherman had disappeared. If he had, however, looked with more attention, he might have seen that man, bent double, gliding like a serpent along the stones and losing himself in the mist that floated over the surface of the marsh. He might equally have seen, had he attempted to pierce that mist, a spectacle that might have attracted his attention; and that was the rigging of the vessel, which had changed place, and was now nearer the shore. But Monck saw nothing; and thinking he had nothing to fear, he entered the deserted causeway which led to his camp. It was then that the disappearance of the fisherman appeared strange, and that a real suspicion began to take possession of his mind. He had just placed at the orders of Athos the only post that could protect him. He had a mile of causeway to traverse before he could regain his camp. The fog increased with such intensity that he could scarcely distinguish objects at ten paces’ distance. Monck then thought he heard the sound of an oar over the marsh on the right. “Who goes there?” said he.
But nobody answered; then he cocked his pistol, took his sword in his hand, and quickened his pace, without, however, being willing to call anybody. Such a summons, for which there was no absolute necessity, appeared unworthy of him.
27
The Next Day
It was seven o’clock in the morning, the first rays of day lightened the pools of the marsh, in which the sun was reflected like a red ball, when Athos, awakening and opening the window of his bedchamber, which looked out upon the banks of the river, perceived, at fifteen paces’ distance from him, the sergeant and the men who had accompanied him the evening before, and who, after having deposited the casks at his house, had returned to the camp by the causeway on the right.
Why had these men come back after having returned to the camp? That was the question which first presented itself to Athos. The sergeant, with his head raised, appeared to be watching the moment when the gentleman should appear to address him. Athos, surprised to see these men, whom he had seen depart the night before, could not refrain from expressing his astonishment to them.
“There is nothing surprising in that, Monsieur,” said the sergeant; “for yesterday the general commanded me to watch over your safety, and I thought it right to obey that order.”
“Is the general at the camp?” asked Athos.
“No doubt he is, Monsieur; as when he left you he was going back.”
“Well, wait for me a moment; I am going thither to render an account of the fidelity with which you fulfilled your duty, and to get my sword, which
