“What a fine specimen!” said the captain; “scamp rather than scoundrel. Well, I suppose I shall hear from the count and Porthos and the little man with the pink kid gloves—Aramis. I hate the little animal, but Porthos—I want you to see Porthos. He has gigantic manners. He is so conscious of his bigness, and makes chests at you like a pouter pigeon. He has a bass voice like a war-drum. Things shake. Oh, I like Porthos. Pardon my nonsense, Greville, but the whole thing is so big, so grotesquely huge. Tell me about Athos, the count. Your cigars were not bought in France; may I have another? Thanks. You were to see him to-day.”
“Yes; I called on him, and I assure you,” I replied, “that nothing you have told me is more wonderful than my sequel. I did think you had the original trois mousquetaires rather too much on your mind, but really, the resemblance is certainly fascinating.”
“But what about the count? You have seen him, I suppose.”
“Yes, I saw Count le Moyne. He lives in a charming little hôtel near the Parc Monceaux. He had my card in his hand when I entered. He welcomed me quite warmly, and said, ‘It is odd, as you are of your legation, that we have never met; but then I am only of late transferred from Vienna. Pray sit down.’
“I was sure that for a fraction of a moment he did not identify me, but as I spoke, my voice, as so often happens, revealed more than the darkness had made visible. I observed at once that, although still extremely courteous, he became more cool and looked puzzled.
“I said: ‘Monsieur, last night, in the darkness, I gave you by mistake the card of my friend Captain Merton in place of my own. I have called in person solely to apologize for my blunder.’ As I spoke I stood up, adding, ‘As this is my only purpose, I shall leave you to rearrange matters as may seem best to you.’
VII
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