ves."

"Are you quite sure of it?"

"I am he."

There was a moment of cold silence, during which everyone was affected
according to his nature.

"This time," said Athos, first breaking the silence, "d'Artagnan has
given us an excellent program, and the letter must be written at once."

"The devil! You are right, Athos," said Aramis; "and it is a rather
difficult matter. The chancellor himself would be puzzled how to write
such a letter, and yet the chancellor draws up an official report very
readily. Never mind! Be silent, I will write."

Aramis accordingly took the quill, reflected for a few moments, wrote
eight or ten lines in a charming little female hand, and then with a
voice soft and slow, as if each word had been scrupulously weighed, he
read the following:

"My Lord, The person who writes these few lines had the honor of
crossing swords with you in the little enclosure of the Rue d'Enfer.
As you have several times since declared yourself the friend of that
person, he thinks it his duty to respond to that friendship by sending
you important information. Twice you have nearly been the victim of a
near relative, whom you believe to be your heir because you are ignorant
that before she contracted a marriage in England she was already married
in France. But the third time, which is the present, you may succumb.
Your relative left La Rochelle for England during the night. Watch her
arrival, for she has great and terrible projects. If you require to know
positively what she is capable of, read her past history on her left
shoulder."

"Well, now that will do wonderfully well," said Athos. "My dear Aramis,
you have the pen of a secretary of state. Lord de Winter will now be
upon his guard if the letter should reach him; and even if it should
fall into the hands of the cardinal, we shall not be compromised. But
as the lackey who goes may make us believe he has been to London and may
stop at Chatellerault, let us give him only half the sum promised him,
with the letter, with an agreement that he shall have the other half in
exchange for the reply. Have you the diamond?" continued Athos.

"I have what is still better. I have the price;" and d'Artagnan threw
the bag upon the table. At the sound of the gold Aramis raised his eyes
and Porthos started. As to Athos, he remained unmoved.

"How much in that little bag?"

"Seven thousand livres, in louis of twelve francs."

"Seven thousand livres!" cried Porthos.