Mordaunt went away with the captain. At the door he stopped to listen.
“Do you hear how they sleep?” he asked.
In fact, Porthos could be heard snoring through the partition.
“’Tis God who gives them into our hands,” answered Groslow.
“This time the devil himself shall not save them,” rejoined Mordaunt.
And they went out together.
Chapter LXXII.
End of the Port Wine Mystery.
Grimaud waited till he heard the bolt grind in the lock and when he was satisfied that he was alone he slowly rose from his recumbent posture.
“Ah!” he said, wiping with his sleeve large drops of sweat from his forehead, “how lucky it was that Mousqueton was thirsty!”
He made haste to pass out by the opening, still thinking himself in a dream; but the sight of the gunpowder in the tankard proved to him that his dream was a fatal nightmare.