“Yes,” said Harrison, laughing, and looking over at one of the officers seated at his table. “When Groslow undertakes this kind of thing there’s no need to go over the ground a second time.”
“Ah! it was this gentleman?” said D’Artagnan, bowing to the officer. “I am sorry he does not speak French, that I might tender him my compliments.”
“I am ready to receive and return them, sir,” said the officer, in pretty good French, “for I resided three years in Paris.”
“Then, sir, allow me to assure you that your blow was so well directed that you have nearly killed your man.”
“Nearly? I thought I had quite,” said Groslow.
“No. It was a very near thing, but he is not dead.”
As he said this, D’Artagnan gave a glance at Parry, who was standing in front of the king, to show him that the news was meant for him.
The king, too, who had listened in the greatest agony, now breathed again.
“Hang it,” said Groslow, “I thought I had succeeded better. If it were not so far from here to the house I would return and finish him.”
“And you would do well, if you are afraid of his recovering; for you know, if a wound in the head does not kill at once, it is cured in a week.”