We had only just turned the corner of the street, when Raoul exclaimed, "Why, there is D'Arcy! Armand, here is an old friend who will be glad to see you." "De Lalande! So they have let you out of the Bastille? Conde made a mistake. He should have kept you behind the bars till the trouble is at an end. You will soon be running into fresh mischief. Where are you going now?" "On a voyage of discovery," said Raoul. "Will you come?" "Gladly! The times are out of joint, and I have nothing to do." I introduced him to Humphreys, and we went on together to the Rue de Roi. Leaving us at the corner, to watch, Raoul crossed the road and boldly entered the famous inn. The street was crowded with people, and, lest some chance passer-by might recognise me, I muffled my face, and leaned against the wall, while Armand and John Humphreys stood a short distance off. Raoul was absent a long time, and we began to fidget, but presently he came out and made his way toward us. "We are on a false scent," he said; "our quarry has not been there, though Henri has. Conde's troopers have searched the house twice in three days, and the landlord is quite indignant. But I believe the rascal knows something about Peleton." Armand was on the point of answering when I caught sight of a figure which induced me to draw my companions back where they would not be noticed. It was Pillot in a tremendous hurry. He had been running fast: his hair and face were wet with perspiration; he was breathing irregularly, and kept glancing over his shoulder as if expecting to discover an enemy. Stopping outside the inn, he looked anxiously up the street, was apparently reassured, and then darted like an eel up the side entrance. "The Abbe's man," said D'Arcy; "the poor fellow our friend here half murdered." Raoul became excited. "A messenger either to or from Henri de Lalande!" he exclaimed, and was about to dart across the road when I pulled him back roughly, saying, "Be still! You will spoil everything. Let us stay here and follow when he returns." "Good advice!" agreed D'Arcy. "We may learn something. Hola! What an uproar! Something serious the matter one would imagine. Here comes D'Artagnan with his musketeers! The fellow rides as if Paris belongs to him. See how he sweeps the _canaille_ out of his path!" "The crowd is closing up," said Humphreys, "and the musketeers will have hard work to force a way. Ah! there's one fellow down. D'Artagnan is a fine rider. See how he manages his horse! He would have done good work in our ranks at Naseby. And a sworder, too! There's a stroke!" "Smother him!" laughed D'Arcy; "we shall have the rabble here in a minute. Be quiet, my dear fellow; I warrant D'Artagnan is no better fencer than yourself." "Hang D'Artagnan!" cried Raoul excitedly. "Look, there goes the little man." "And a man in a gray cloak behind him! Is that Peleton?" "No," said I, "it is my cousin. Quick, let us follow and see where they go."