“Yes.”
“And who is it?” said Porthos.
“He—he—is——” murmured Grimaud, pale as a ghost and seizing his master’s hand.
“Who? He?” asked Athos.
“Mordaunt,” replied Grimaud.
D’Artagnan, Porthos and Aramis uttered a cry of joy.
Athos stepped back and passed his hand across his brow.
“Fatality!” he muttered.
Chapter LXVIII.
Cromwell’s House.
It was, in fact, Mordaunt whom D’Artagnan had followed, without knowing it. On entering the house he had taken off his mask and imitation beard, then, mounting a staircase, had opened a door, and in a room lighted by a single lamp found himself face to face with a man seated behind a desk.