ur; we couldn't leave our prisoners, could
we?"

"Ah! ah!" said Aramis.

"Tell us about it," said Athos, palpitating.

"We are going, then, we two with our swords, you with daggers. We four
have got to master these eight fools and their stupid captain. Monsieur
Porthos, what do you say to that?"

"I say it is easy enough," answered Porthos.

"We dress the king in Groslow's clothes. Mousqueton, Grimaud and
Blaisois have our horses saddled at the end of the first street. We
mount them and before daylight are twenty leagues distant."

Athos placed his two hands on D'Artagnan's shoulders, and gazed at him
with his calm, sad smile.

"I declare, my friend," said he, "that there is not a creature under
the sky who equals you in prowess and in courage. Whilst we thought you
indifferent to our sorrows, which you couldn't share without crime, you
alone among us have discovered what we were searching for in vain. I
repeat it, D'Artagnan, you are the best one among us; I bless and love
you, my dear son."

"And to think that I couldn't find that out," said Porthos, scratching
his head; "it is so simple."

"But," said Aramis, "if I understand rightly we are to kill them all,
eh?"

Athos shuddered and turned pale.

"Mordioux!" answered D'Artagnan, "I believe we must. I confess I can
discover no other safe and satisfactory way."

"Let us see," said Aramis, "how are we to act?"

"I have arranged two plans. Firstly, at a given signal, which shall
be the words 'At last,' you each plunge a dagger into the heart of the
soldier nearest to you. We, on our side, do the same. That will be four
killed. We shall then be matched, four against the remaining five. If
these five men give themselves up we gag them; if they resist, we kill
them. If by chance our Amphitryon changes his mind and receives only
Porthos and myself, why, then, we must resort to heroic measures and
each give two strokes instead of one. It will take a little longer time
and may make a greater disturbance, but you will be outside with swords
and will rush in at the proper time."

"But if you yourselves should be struck?" said Athos.

"Impossible!" said D'Artagnan; "those beer drinkers are too clumsy and
awkward. Besides, you will strike at the throat, Porthos; it kills as
quickly and prevents all outcry."

"Very good," said Porthos; "it will be a nice little throat cutting."

"Horrible, horrible," exclaimed Athos.

"Nonsense," said D'Artagnan; "you would