“No,” said Monk, in order to discover if there were not any connivance between the Comte de la Fere and the fisherman. “No, I should prefer one of these French sailors who came this evening to sell me their fish. They leave to-morrow, and the secret will be better kept by them; whereas, if a report should be spread in the Scotch army, that treasures are to be found in the abbey of Newcastle, my Highlanders will believe there is a million concealed beneath every slab, and they will not leave stone upon stone in the building.” “Do as you think best, general,” replied Athos in a natural tone of voice, making evident that soldier or fisherman was the same to him, and that he had no preference. Monk approached the causeway behind which had disappeared the person he had taken for Digby, and met a patrol who, making the tour of the tents, was going towards headquarters; he was stopped with his companion, gave the password, and went on. A soldier, roused by the noise, unrolled his plaid, and looked up to see what was going forward. “Ask him,” said Monk to Athos, “where the fishermen are; if I were to speak to him, he would know me.” Athos went up to the soldier, who pointed out the tent to him; immediately Monk and Athos turned towards it. It appeared to the general that at the moment they came up, a shadow like that they had already seen glided into this tent; but on drawing nearer he perceived he must have been mistaken, for all of them were asleep pele mele, and nothing was seen but arms and legs joined, crossed, and mixed. Athos, fearing lest he should be suspected of connivance with some of his compatriots, remained outside the tent. “Hola!” said Monk, in French, “wake up here.” Two or three of the sleepers got up. “I want a man to light me,” continued Monk. “Your honor may depend upon us,” said a voice which made Athos start. “Where do you wish us to go?” “You shall see. A light! come, quickly!” “Yes, your honor. Does it please your honor that I should accompany you?” “You or another, it is of very little consequence, provided I have a light.” “It is strange!” thought Athos, “what a singular voice that man has!” “Some fire, you fellows!” cried the fisherman; “come, make haste!” Then addressing his companion nearest to him in a low voice:—“Get a light, Menneville,” said he, “and hold yourself ready for anything.” One of the fishermen struck light from a stone, set fire to some tinder, and by the aid of a match lit a lantern. The light immediately spread all over the tent. “Are you ready, monsieur?” said Monk to Athos, who had turned away, not to expose his face to the light. “Yes, general,” replied he.