As to D’Artagnan, he did not budge from his apartment. He converted his chamber into an observatory. From his windows he saw all the visitors who were caught. Then, having removed a plank from his floor, and nothing remaining but a simple ceiling between him and the room beneath, in which the interrogatories were made, he heard all that passed between the inquisitors and the accused. The interrogatories, preceded by a minute search operated upon the persons arrested, were almost always framed thus: “Has Madame Bonacieux sent anything to you for her husband, or any other person? Has Monsieur Bonacieux sent anything to you for his wife, or for any other person? Has either of them confided anything to you by word of mouth?” “If they knew anything, they would not question people in this manner,” said D’Artagnan to himself. “Now, what is it they want to know? Why, they want to know if the Duke of Buckingham is in Paris, and if he has had, or is likely to have, an interview with the queen.” D’Artagnan held onto this idea, which, from what he had heard, was not wanting in probability. In the meantime, the mousetrap continued in operation, and likewise D’Artagnan’s vigilance. On the evening of the day after the arrest of poor Bonacieux, as Athos had just left D’Artagnan to report at M. de Tréville’s, as nine o’clock had just struck, and as Planchet, who had not yet made the bed, was beginning his task, a knocking was heard at the street door. The door was instantly opened and shut; someone was taken in the mousetrap. D’Artagnan flew to his hole, laid himself down on the floor at full length, and listened. Cries were soon heard, and then moans, which someone appeared to be endeavoring to stifle. There were no questions. “The devil!” said D’Artagnan to himself. “It seems like a woman! They search her; she resists; they use force—the scoundrels!” In spite of his prudence, D’Artagnan restrained himself with great difficulty from taking a part in the scene that was going on below. “But I tell you that I am the mistress of the house, gentlemen! I tell you I am Madame Bonacieux; I tell you I belong to the queen!” cried the unfortunate woman. “Madame Bonacieux!” murmured D’Artagnan. “Can I be so lucky as to find what everybody is seeking for?” The voice became more and more indistinct; a tumultuous movement shook the partition. The victim resisted as much as a woman could resist four men. “Pardon, gentlemen—par—” murmured the voice, which could now only be heard in inarticulate sounds. “They are binding her; they are going to drag her away,” cried D’Artagnan to himself, springing up from the floor. “My sword! Good, it is by my side! Planchet!” “Monsieur.” “Run and seek Athos, Porthos and Aramis. One of the three will certainly be at home, perhaps all three. Tell them to take arms, to come here, and to run! Ah, I remember, Athos is at Monsieur de Tréville’s.” “But where are you going, monsieur, where are you going?”