The Three Musketeers (The Modern Library) - Alexandre Dumas [126]
“Come, my good man, you’re joking! Did you mention dirty work at the crossroads? God help me, if my boots could do with a sponging, your shoes and stockings could do with a brush! Have you been gadding about too, my dear landlord? By God, that would be unpardonable for a man of your age with a wife as beautiful as Madame Bonacieux.”
“No, no, no, Monsieur, I was not gadding about. I went out to Saint-Mandé to find out about a servant. I cannot do without one and you remember the last one left the night I was arrested. It was muddy going, I can tell you.”
To D’Artagnan the fact that Bonacieux cited Saint-Mandé was eminently suspicious for Saint-Mandé was south west of Paris, Saint-Cloud north east. Bonacieux’s guile offered D’Artagnan a glimmer of consolation, the first he had experienced. If the haberdasher knew where his wife was, somewhere and somehow he might be persuaded by forcible means to divulge his secret. The question was to change what D’Artagnan considered a probability into an absolute certainty.
“My dear landlord, do you mind if I do not stand on ceremony with you?” D’Artagnan inquired.
“Of course, go ahead, Monsieur.”
“I’m parched with thirst; as you know nothing makes a man so thirsty as lack of sleep! May I go drink a glass of water in your kitchen? After all, as neighbor to neighbor—”
And without awaiting his landlord’s permission, he went quickly into the house. As he passed through the apartment a rapid glance at the bed told him that no one had slept in it; therefore Bonacieux must have returned only an hour or two ago; therefore, again, he must have accompanied his wife to her place of confinement or, leastways, to the first relay.
“Many, many thanks, Monsieur Bonacieux,” D’Artagnan said as he drained his glass. “I am much obliged. Now I shall go up to my place and have Planchet brush my boots. When he is done I will send him down to you to look after your shoes and stockings if you like. One good turn deserves another.”
With which he left the haberdasher somewhat dazed by their singular parting and more than a little nervous that he had perhaps been hoisted by his own petard. At the top of the stairs D’Artagnan found Planchet plunged in abject confusion.
“Ah, Monsieur,” the lackey wailed, “we are in for still more trouble. It never rains but it pours! I was wondering when you would come home.”
“What is the matter?”
“I will give you a hundred guesses, Monsieur, a thousand, if necessary. Imagine who called on you while you were away?”
“When?”
“Half an hour ago, Monsieur, when you were with Monsieur de Tréville.”
“Well, who? Speak up, man.”
“Monsieur de Cavois!”
“Monsieur de Cavois?”
“In person!”
“The Captain of His Eminence’s Guards?”
“Himself!”
“Did he come to arrest me?”
“I couldn’t quite tell, Monsieur, but I suspect so, in spite of his wheedling manners.”
“So he was pleasant, eh?”
“Sweet as a nut, Monsieur. He was honey dripping from the comb.”
“You don’t say so!”
“I do indeed, Monsieur. He told me he came at the express command of His Eminence to offer you His Eminence’s compliments and beg you to proceed with him to wait upon His Eminence.”
“What did you say, Planchet?”
“I answered that it was impossible because you were not at home, as he could see for himself.”
“What did he say then?”
“He said you should not fail to call on him in the course of the day. And he whispered this, Monsieur, very polite and very mysterious, too!”
Planchet stopped, nursing his dramatic effect.
“Well, what, lad?”
“He whispered: “Tell your master that His Eminence is very well disposed toward him and that his fortune may perhaps depend upon this interview.’”
D’Artagnan smiled:
“That kind of trap seems too clumsy to be of the Cardinal’s making.”
“You know I saw right through it myself, Monsieur. I said that you would be desperately disappointed on your return.”
Monsieur de Cavois had then asked Planchet where his master had gone; the lackey