“Yes,” said Harrison, laughing, and looking over at one of the officers seated at his table. “When Groslow undertakes this kind of thing there’s no need to go over the ground a second time.”
“Ah! it was this gentleman?” said d’Artagnan, bowing to the officer. “I am sorry he does not speak French, that I might tender him my compliments.”
“I am ready to receive and return them, sir,” said the officer, in pretty good French, “for I resided three years in Paris.”
“Then, sir, allow me to assure you that your blow was so well directed that you have nearly killed your man.”
“Nearly? I thought I had quite,” said Groslow.
“No. It was a very near thing, but he is not dead.”
As he said this, d’Artagnan gave a glance at Parry, who was standing in front of the king, to show him that the news was meant for him.
The king, too, who had listened in the greatest agony, now breathed again.
“Hang it,” said Groslow, “I thought I had succeeded better. If it were not so far from here to the house I would return and finish him.”
“And you would do well, if you are afraid of his recovering; for you know, if a wound in the head does not kill at once, it is cured in a week.”
And d’Artagnan threw a second glance toward Parry, on whose face such an expression of joy was manifested that Charles stretched out his hand to him, smiling.
Parry bent over his master’s hand and kissed it respectfully.
“I’ve a great desire to drink the king’s health,” said Athos.
“Let me propose it, then,” said d’Artagnan.
“Do,” said Aramis.
Porthos looked at d’Artagnan, quite amazed at the resources with which his companion’s Gascon sharpness continually supplied him. D’Artagnan took up his camp tin cup, filled it with wine and arose.
“Gentlemen,” said he, “let us drink to him who presides at the repast. Here’s to our colonel, and let him know that we are always at his commands as far as London and farther.”
And as d’Artagnan, as he spoke, looked at Harrison, the colonel imagined the toast was for himself. He arose and bowed to the four friends, whose eyes were fixed on Charles, while Harrison emptied his glass without the slightest misgiving.
The king, in return, looked at the four gentlemen and drank with a smile full of nobility and gratitude.
“Come, gentlemen,” cried Harrison, regardless of his illustrious captive, “let us be off.”
“Where do we sleep, colonel?”
“At Thirsk,” replied Harrison.
“Parry,” said the king, rising too, “my horse; I desire to go to Thirsk.”
“Egad!” said d’Artagnan to Athos, “your king has thoroughly taken me, and I am quite at his service.”
“If what you say is sincere,” replied Athos, “he will never reach London.”
“How so?”
“Because before then we shall have carried him off.”
“Well, this time, Athos,” said d’Artagnan, “upon my word, you are mad.”
“Have you some plan in your head then?” asked Aramis.
“Ay!” said Porthos, “the thing would not be impossible with a good plan.”
“I have none,” said Athos; “but d’Artagnan will discover one.”
D’Artagnan shrugged his shoulders and they proceeded.
LXI
D’Artagnan Hits on a Plan
As night closed in they arrived at Thirsk. The four friends appeared to be entire strangers to one another and indifferent to the precautions taken for guarding the king. They withdrew to a private house, and as they had reason every moment to fear for their safety, they occupied but one room and provided an exit, which might be useful in case of an attack. The lackeys were sent to their several posts, except that Grimaud lay on a truss of straw across the doorway.
D’Artagnan was thoughtful and seemed for the moment to have lost his usual loquacity. Porthos, who could never see anything that was not self-evident, talked to him as usual. He replied in monosyllables and Athos and Aramis looked significantly at one another.
Next morning d’Artagnan was the first to rise. He had been down to the stables, already taken a look at the horses and given the necessary orders for the day, whilst Athos and Aramis were still in bed and Porthos snoring.
At eight o’clock the march was resumed in the same order as the night before, except that d’Artagnan left his friends and began to renew the acquaintance which he had already struck up with Monsieur Groslow.
Groslow, whom d’Artagnan’s praises had greatly pleased, welcomed him with a gracious smile.
“Really, sir,” d’Artagnan said to him, “I am pleased to find one with whom to talk in my own poor tongue. My friend, Monsieur du Vallon, is of a very melancholy disposition, so much so, that one can scarcely get three words out of him all day. As for our two prisoners, you can imagine that they are but little in the vein for conversation.”
“They are hot royalists,” said Groslow.
“The more reason they should be sulky with us for having captured the Stuart, for whom, I hope, you’re preparing a pretty trial.”
“Why,” said Groslow, “that is just what we are taking him to London for.”
“And you never by any chance lose sight of him, I presume?”
“I should think not, indeed. You see he has a truly royal escort.”
“Ay, there’s no fear in the daytime; but at night?”
“We redouble our precautions.”
“And what method of surveillance do you employ?”
“Eight men remain constantly in his room.”
“The deuce, he is well guarded, then. But besides these eight men, you doubtless place some guard outside?”
“Oh, no! Just think. What would you have two men without arms do against eight armed men?”
“Two men—how do you mean?”
“Yes, the king and his lackey.”
“Oh! then they allow the lackey to remain with him?”
“Yes; Stuart begged this favor and Harrison consented. Under pretense that he’s a king it appears he cannot dress or undress without assistance.”
“Really,
