that hands so delicate as his
might not have been supposed capable of having.

"My lord," said Athos, "this is plainly the masonry of which I told your
honor."

"Yes; but I do not yet see the casks," said Monk.

"If I had a dagger," said Athos, looking round him, "you should soon see
them, monsieur. Unfortunately, I left mine in your tent."

"I would willingly offer you mine," said Monk, "but the blade is too
thin for such work."

Athos appeared to look around him for a thing of some kind that might
serve as a substitute for the weapon he desired. Monk did not lose one
of the movements of his hands, or one of the expressions of his eyes.
"Why do you not ask the fisherman for his cutlass?" said Monk; "he has a
cutlass."

"Ah! that is true," said Athos, "for he cut the tree down with it." And
he advanced towards the stairs.

"Friend," said he to the fisherman, "throw me down your cutlass, if you
please; I want it."

The noise of the falling weapon sounded on the steps.

"Take it," said Monk; "it is a solid instrument, as I have seen, and a
strong hand might make good use of it."

Athos only appeared to give to the words of Monk the natural and simple
sense under which they were to be heard and understood. Nor did he
remark, or at least appear to remark, that when he returned with the
weapon, Monk drew back, placing his left hand on the stock of his
pistol; in the right he already held his dirk. He went to work then,
turning his back to Monk, placing his life in his hands, without
possible defense. He then struck, during several seconds, so skillfully
and sharply upon the intermediary plaster, that it separated into two
parts, and Monk was able to discern two barrels placed end to end, and
which their weight maintained motionless in their chalky envelope.

"My lord," said Athos, "you see that my presentiments have not been
disappointed."

"Yes, monsieur," said Monk, "and I have good reason to believe you are
satisfied; are you not?"

"Doubtless, I am; the loss of this money would have been inexpressibly
great to me: but I was certain that God, who protects the good cause,
would not have permitted this gold, which should procure its triumph, to
be diverted to baser purposes."

"You are, upon my honor, as mysterious in your words as in your actions,
monsieur," said Monk. "Just now I did not perfectly understand you when
you said that you were not willing to throw upon me the responsibility
of the work we