“Which would not prevent me,” said D’Artagnan, “if I knew where the Duke of Buckingham was, from taking him by the hand and conducting him to the queen, were it only to enrage the cardinal, and if we could find means to play him a sharp turn, I vow that I would voluntarily risk my head in doing it.” “And did the mercer*,” rejoined Athos, “tell you, D’Artagnan, that the queen thought that Buckingham had been brought over by a forged letter?” * Haberdasher “She is afraid so.” “Wait a minute, then,” said Aramis. “What for?” demanded Porthos. “Go on, while I endeavor to recall circumstances.” “And now I am convinced,” said D’Artagnan, “that this abduction of the queen’s woman is connected with the events of which we are speaking, and perhaps with the presence of Buckingham in Paris.” “The Gascon is full of ideas,” said Porthos, with admiration. “I like to hear him talk,” said Athos; “his dialect amuses me.” “Gentlemen,” cried Aramis, “listen to this.” “Listen to Aramis,” said his three friends. “Yesterday I was at the house of a doctor of theology, whom I sometimes consult about my studies.” Athos smiled. “He resides in a quiet quarter,” continued Aramis; “his tastes and his profession require it. Now, at the moment when I left his house—” Here Aramis paused. “Well,” cried his auditors; “at the moment you left his house?” Aramis appeared to make a strong inward effort, like a man who, in the full relation of a falsehood, finds himself stopped by some unforeseen obstacle; but the eyes of his three companions were fixed upon him, their ears were wide open, and there were no means of retreat. “This doctor has a niece,” continued Aramis. “Ah, he has a niece!” interrupted Porthos. “A very respectable lady,” said Aramis. The three friends burst into laughter. “Ah, if you laugh, if you doubt me,” replied Aramis, “you shall know nothing.” “We believe like Mohammedans, and are as mute as tombstones,” said Athos. “I will continue, then,” resumed Aramis. “This niece comes sometimes to see her uncle; and by chance was there yesterday at the same time that I was, and it was my duty to offer to conduct her to her carriage.” “Ah! She has a carriage, then, this niece of the doctor?” interrupted Porthos, one of whose faults was a great looseness of tongue. “A nice acquaintance, my friend!” “Porthos,” replied Aramis, “I have had the occasion to observe to you more than once that you are very indiscreet; and that is injurious to you among the women.” “Gentlemen, gentlemen,” cried D’Artagnan, who began to get a glimpse of the result of the adventure, “the thing is serious. Let us try not to jest, if we can. Go on Aramis, go on.” “All at once, a tall, dark gentleman—just like yours, D’Artagnan.” “The same, perhaps,” said he.