“In the house in which the judicial inquiry was made,” continued the impassive cardinal, “there lodges, I believe, a young Béarnais, a friend of the musketeer.”
“Your Eminence means M. d’Artagnan.”
“I mean a young man whom you patronize, M. de Tréville.”
“Yes, your Eminence, it is the same.”
“Do you not suspect this young man of having given bad counsel?”
“To Athos, to a man double his age?” interrupted Tréville. “No, monseigneur. Besides, d’Artagnan passed the evening with me.”
“Well,” said the cardinal, “everybody seems to have passed the evening with you.”
“Does your Eminence doubt my word?” said Tréville, with a brow flushed with anger.
“No, God forbid,” said the cardinal; “only, at what hour was he with you?”
“Oh, as to that I can speak positively, your Eminence; for as he came in I remarked that it was but half past nine by the clock, although I had believed it to be later.”
“At what hour did he leave your hotel?”
“At half past ten—an hour after the event.”
“Well,” replied the cardinal, who could not for an instant suspect the loyalty of Tréville, and who felt that the victory was escaping him, “well, but Athos was taken in the house in the Rue des Fossoyeurs.”