Chapter Chapter 64 · Chapter LXIV. THE MAN IN THE RED CLOAK

. Chapter LXIV. THE MAN IN THE RED CLOAK

The despair of Athos had given place to a concentrated grief which only

rendered more lucid the brilliant mental faculties of that

extraordinary man.

Possessed by one single thought—that of the promise he had made, and of

the responsibility he had taken—he retired last to his chamber, begged

the host to procure him a map of the province, bent over it, examined

every line traced upon it, perceived that there were four different

roads from Béthune to Armentières, and summoned the lackeys.

Planchet, Grimaud, Bazin, and Mousqueton presented themselves, and

received clear, positive, and serious orders from Athos.

They must set out the next morning at daybreak, and go to

Armentières—each by a different route. Planchet, the most intelligent

of the four, was to follow that by which the carriage had gone upon

which the four friends had fired, and which was accompanied, as may be

remembered, by Rochefort’s servant.

Athos set the lackeys to work first because, since these men had been

in the service of himself and his friends he had discovered in each of

them different and essential qualities. Then, lackeys who ask questions

inspire less mistrust than masters, and meet with more sympathy among

those to whom they address themselves. Besides, Milady knew the

masters, and did not know the lackeys; on the contrary, the lackeys

knew Milady perfectly.

All four were to meet the next day at eleven o’clock. If they had

discovered Milady’s retreat, three were to remain on guard; the fourth

was to return to Béthune in order to inform Athos and serve as a guide

to the four friends. These arrangements made, the lackeys retired.

Athos then arose from his chair, girded on his sword, enveloped himself

in his cloak, and left the hôtel. It was nearly ten o’clock. At ten

o’clock in the evening, it is well known, the streets in provincial

towns are very little frequented. Athos nevertheless was visibly

anxious to find someone of whom he could ask a question. At length he

met a belated passenger, went up to him, and spoke a few words to him.

The man he addressed recoiled with terror, and only answered the few

words of the Musketeer by pointing. Athos offered the man half a

pistole to accompany him, but the man refused.

Athos then plunged into the street the man had indicated with his

finger; but arriving at four crossroads, he stopped again, visibly

embarrassed. Nevertheless, as the crossroads offered him a better

chance than any other place of meeting somebody, he stood still. In a

few minutes a night watch passed. Athos repeated to him the same

question he had asked the first person he met. The night watch evinced

the same terror, refused, in his turn, to accompany Athos, and only

pointed with his hand to the road he was to take.

Athos walked in the direction indicated, and reached the suburb

situated at the opposite extremity of the city from that by which he

and his friends had entered it. There he again appeared uneasy and

embarrassed, and stopped for the third time.

Fortunately, a mendicant passed, who, coming up to Athos to ask

charity, Athos offered him half a crown to accompany him where he was

going. The mendicant hesitated at first, but at the sight of the piece

of silver which shone in the darkness he consented, and walked on

before Athos.

Arrived at the angle of a street, he pointed to a small house,

isolated, solitary, and dismal. Athos went toward the house, while the

mendicant, who had received his reward, left as fast as his legs could

carry him.

Athos went round the house before he could distinguish the door, amid

the red color in which the house was painted. No light appeared through

the chinks of the shutters; no noise gave reason to believe that it was

inhabited. It was dark and silent as the tomb.

Three times Athos knocked without receiving an answer. At the third

knock, however, steps were heard inside. The door at length was opened,

and a man appeared, of high stature, pale complexion, and black hair

and beard.

Athos and he exchanged some words in a low voice, then the tall man

made a sign to the Musketeer that he might come in. Athos immediately

profited by the permission, and the door was closed behind him.

The man whom Athos had come so far to seek, and whom he had found with

so much trouble, introduced him into his laboratory, where he was

engaged in fastening together with iron wire the dry bones of a

skeleton. All the frame was adjusted except the head, which lay on the

table.

All the rest of the furniture indicated that the dweller in this house

occupied himself with the study of natural science. There were large

bottles filled with serpents, ticketed according to their species;

dried lizards shone like emeralds set in great squares of black wood,

and bunches of wild odoriferous herbs, doubtless possessed of virtues

unknown to common men, were fastened to the ceiling and hung down in

the corners of the apartment. There was no family, no servant; the tall

man alone inhabited this house.

Athos cast a cold and indifferent glance upon the objects we have

described, and at the invitation of him whom he came to seek sat down

near him.

Then he explained to him the cause of his visit, and the service he

required of him. But scarcely had he expressed his request when the

unknown, who remained standing before the Musketeer, drew back with

signs of terror, and refused. Then Athos took from his pocket a small

paper, on which two lines were written, accompanied by a signature and

a seal, and presented them to him who had made too prematurely these

signs of repugnance. The tall man had scarcely read these lines, seen

the signature, and recognized the seal, when he bowed to denote that he

had no longer any objection to make, and that he was ready to obey.

Athos required no more. He arose, bowed, went out, returned by the same

way he came, re-entered the hôtel, and went to his apartment.

At daybreak D’Artagnan entered the chamber, and demanded what was to be

done.

“To wait,” replied Athos.

Some minutes after, the superior of the convent sent to inform the

Musketeers that the burial would take place at midday. As to the

poisoner, they had heard no tidings of her whatever, only that she must

have made her escape through the garden, on the sand of which her

footsteps could be traced, and the door of which had been found shut.

As to the key, it had disappeared.

At the hour appointed, Lord de Winter and the four friends repaired to

the convent; the bells tolled, the chapel was open, the grating of the

choir was closed. In the middle of the choir the body of the victim,

clothed in her novitiate dress, was exposed. On each side of the choir

and behind the gratings opening into the convent was assembled the

whole community of the Carmelites, who listened to the divine service,

and mingled their chant with the chant of the priests, without seeing

the profane, or being seen by them.

At the door of the chapel D’Artagnan felt his courage fall anew, and

returned to look for Athos; but Athos had disappeared.

Faithful to his mission of vengeance, Athos had requested to be

conducted to the garden; and there upon the sand following the light

steps of this woman, who left sharp tracks wherever she went, he

advanced toward the gate which led into the wood, and causing it to be

opened, he went out into the forest.

Then all his suspicions were confirmed; the road by which the carriage

had disappeared encircled the forest. Athos followed the road for some

time, his eyes fixed upon the ground; slight stains of blood, which

came from the wound inflicted upon the man who accompanied the carriage

as a courier, or from one of the horses, dotted the road. At the end of

three-quarters of a league, within fifty paces of Festubert, a larger

bloodstain appeared; the ground was trampled by horses. Between the

forest and this accursed spot, a little behind the trampled ground, was

the same track of small feet as in the garden; the carriage had stopped

here. At this spot Milady had come out of the wood, and entered the

carriage.

Satisfied with this discovery which confirmed all his suspicions, Athos

returned to the hôtel, and found Planchet impatiently waiting for him.

Everything was as Athos had foreseen.

Planchet had followed the road; like Athos, he had discovered the

stains of blood; like Athos, he had noted the spot where the horses had

halted. But he had gone farther than Athos—for at the village of

Festubert, while drinking at an inn, he had learned without needing to

ask a question that the evening before, at half-past eight, a wounded

man who accompanied a lady traveling in a post-chaise had been obliged

to stop, unable to go further. The accident was set down to the account

of robbers, who had stopped the chaise in the wood. The man remained in

the village; the woman had had a relay of horses, and continued her

journey.

Planchet went in search of the postillion who had driven her, and found

him. He had taken the lady as far as Fromelles; and from Fromelles she

had set out for Armentières. Planchet took the crossroad, and by seven

o’clock in the morning he was at Armentières.

There was but one tavern, the Post. Planchet went and presented himself

as a lackey out of a place, who was in search of a situation. He had

not chatted ten minutes with the people of the tavern before he learned

that a woman had come there alone about eleven o’clock the night

before, had engaged a chamber, had sent for the master of the hôtel,

and told him she desired to remain some time in the neighborhood.

Planchet had no need to learn more. He hastened to the rendezvous,

found the lackeys at their posts, placed them as sentinels at all the

outlets of the hôtel, and came to find Athos, who had just received

this information when his friends returned.

All their countenances were melancholy and gloomy, even the mild

countenance of Aramis.

“What is to be done?” asked D’Artagnan.

“To wait!” replied Athos.

Each retired to his own apartment.

At eight o’clock in the evening Athos ordered the horses to be saddled,

and Lord de Winter and his friends notified that they must prepare for

the expedition.

In an instant all five were ready. Each examined his arms, and put them

in order. Athos came down last, and found D’Artagnan already on

horseback, and growing impatient.

“Patience!” cried Athos; “one of our party is still wanting.”

The four horsemen looked round them with astonishment, for they sought

vainly in their minds to know who this other person could be.

At this moment Planchet brought out Athos’s horse; the Musketeer leaped

lightly into the saddle.

“Wait for me,” cried he, “I will soon be back,” and he set off at a

gallop.

In a quarter of an hour he returned, accompanied by a tall man, masked,

and wrapped in a large red cloak.

Lord de Winter and the three Musketeers looked at one another

inquiringly. Neither could give the others any information, for all

were ignorant who this man could be; nevertheless, they felt convinced

that all was as it should be, as it was done by the order of Athos.

At nine o’clock, guided by Planchet, the little cavalcade set out,

taking the route the carriage had taken.

It was a melancholy sight—that of these six men, traveling in silence,

each plunged in his own thoughts, sad as despair, gloomy as

chastisement.