It might be a vengeance of Milady; that was most probable.

He tried in vain to remember the faces or dress of the assassins; he had escaped so rapidly that he had not had leisure to notice anything.

“Ah, my poor friends!” murmured d’Artagnan; “where are you? And that you should fail me!”

D’Artagnan passed a very bad night. Three or four times he started up, imagining that a man was approaching his bed for the purpose of stabbing him. Nevertheless, day dawned without darkness having brought any accident.

But d’Artagnan well suspected that that which was deferred was not relinquished.

D’Artagnan remained all day in his quarters, assigning as a reason to himself that the weather was bad.