t to burst open the
panel after several ineffectual attempts, "Athos, I cannot imagine how
you can talk to us in that way. You cannot understand the position
we are in. In this kind of game, not to kill is to let one's self be
killed. This fox of a fellow will be sending us a hundred iron-sided
beasts who will pick us off like sparrows in this place. Come, come, we
must be off. If we stay here five minutes more there's an end of us."

"Yes, you are right."

"But where shall we go?" asked Porthos.

"To the hotel, to be sure, to get our baggage and horses; and from
there, if it please God, to France, where, at least, I understand the
architecture of the houses."

So, suiting the action to the word, D'Artagnan thrust the remnant of
his sword into its scabbard, picked up his hat and ran down the stairs,
followed by the others.

70. The Skiff "Lightning."

D'Artagnan had judged correctly; Mordaunt felt that he had no time to
lose, and he lost none. He knew the rapidity of decision and action that
characterized his enemies and resolved to act with reference to that.
This time the musketeers had an adversary who was worthy of them.

After closing the door carefully behind him Mordaunt glided into the
subterranean passage, sheathing on the way his now useless sword, and
thus reached the neighboring house, where he paused to examine himself
and to take breath.

"Good!" he said, "nothing, almost nothing--scratches, nothing more; two
in the arm and one in the breast. The wounds that I make are better than
that--witness the executioner of Bethune, my uncle and King Charles.
Now, not a second to lose, for a second lost will perhaps save them.
They must die--die all together--killed at one stroke by the thunder
of men in default of God's. They must disappear, broken, scattered,
annihilated. I will run, then, till my legs no longer serve, till my
heart bursts in my bosom but I will arrive before they do."

Mordaunt proceeded at a rapid pace to the nearest cavalry barracks,
about a quarter of a league distant. He made that quarter of a league
in four or five minutes. Arrived at the barracks he made himself known,
took the best horse in the stables, mounted and gained the high road. A
quarter of an hour later he was at Greenwich.

"There is the port," he murmured. "That dark point yonder is the Isle of
Dogs. Good! I am half an hour in advance of them, an hour, perhaps. Fool
that I was! I have almost killed myself b