"I understand," said Porthos.

"A bottle, perhaps?"

"A whole bottle? Yes, sir."

"A whole bottle, if you will drink my health."

"Willingly," answered the soldier.

"Come, then, and take it, friend," said the Gascon.

"With all my heart. How convenient that there's a bench here. Egad! one
would think it had been placed here on purpose."

"Get on it; that's it, friend."

And D'Artagnan coughed.

That instant the arm of Porthos fell. His hand of iron grasped, quick as
lightning, firm as a pair of blacksmith's pincers, the soldier's throat.
He raised him, almost stifling him as he drew him through the aperture,
at the risk of flaying him in the passage. He then laid him down on the
floor, where D'Artagnan, after giving him just time enough to draw his
breath, gagged him with his long scarf; and the moment he had done so
began to undress him with the promptitude and dexterity of a man who had
learned his business on the field of battle. Then the soldier, gagged
and bound, was placed upon the hearth, the fire of which had been
previously extinguished by the two friends.

"Here's a sword and a dress," said Porthos.

"I take them," said D'Artagnan, "for myself. If you want another uniform
and sword you must play the same trick over again. Stop! I see the other
soldier issue from the guardroom and come toward us."

"I think," replied Porthos, "it would be imprudent to attempt the same
manoeuvre again; it is said that no man can succeed twice in the same
way, and a failure would be ruinous. No; I will go down, seize the man
unawares and bring him to you ready gagged."

"That is better," said the Gascon.

"Be ready," said Porthos, as he slipped through the opening.

He did as he said. Porthos seized his opportunity, caught the next
soldier by his neck, gagged him and pushed him like a mummy through the
bars into the room, and entered after him. Then they undressed him as
they had done the first, laid him on their bed and bound him with the
straps which composed the bed--the bedstead being of oak. This operation
proved as great a success as the first.

"There," said D'Artagnan, "this is capital! Now let me try on the dress
of yonder chap. Porthos, I doubt if you can wear it; but should it be
too tight, never mind, you can wear the breastplate and the hat with the
red feathers."

It happened, however, that the second soldier was a Swiss of gigantic
proportions, so, save that some few of the seams split, his