gesture, and retraced his route with the same precautions he had used in coming.
Let us leave him to follow the road to the camp protected by his esquire and the two musketeers, and return to Athos.
For a hundred paces he maintained the speed at which he started; but when out of sight he turned his horse to the right, made a circuit, and came back within twenty paces of a high hedge to watch the passage of the little troop. Having recognized the laced hats of his companions and the golden fringe of the cardinal’s cloak, he waited till the horsemen had turned the angle of the road, and having lost sight of them, he returned at a gallop to the inn, which was opened to him without hesitation.
The host recognized him.
“My officer,” said Athos, “has forgotten to give a piece of very important information to the lady, and has sent me back to repair his forgetfulness.”
“Go up,” said the host; “she is still in her chamber.”
Athos availed himself of the permission, ascended the stairs with his lightest step, gained the landing, and through the open door perceived Milady putting on her hat.
He entered the chamber and closed the door behind him. At the noise he made in pushing the bolt, Milady turned round.
Athos was standing before the door, enveloped in his cloak, with his hat pulled down over his eyes. On seeing this figure, mute and immovable as a statue, Milady was frightened.
“Who are you, and what do you want?” cried she.
“Humph,” murmured Athos, “it is certainly she!”