"But what if he persists in spite of this in making war?" said Milady. "If he persists? Why, then he must be got rid of. Some woman doubtless exists, handsome, young, and clever, who has a grievance against the duke; and some fanatic can be found to be her instrument." "The woman exists, and the fanatic will be found," returned Milady. "And now, will monseigneur permit me to speak of my enemies, as we have spoken of yours?" "Your enemies? Who are they?" asked Richelieu. "First, there is a meddlesome little woman called Bonacieux. She was in prison at Nantes, but has been conveyed to a convent by an order which the queen obtained from the king. Will your eminence find out where that convent is?" "I don't object to that." "Then I have a much more dangerous enemy than the little Bonacieux, and that is her lover, the wretch D'Artagnan. I will get you a thousand proofs that he has conspired with Buckingham." "Very well; get me proof, and I will send him to the Bastille." For a few seconds there was silence while the cardinal was writing a note. Athos at once got up and told his companions he would go out to see if the road was safe, and left the house. The cardinal gave his final instructions to Milady, and departed with Porthos and Aramis. No sooner had they turned an angle of the road than Athos re-entered the inn, marched boldly upstairs, and before he had been seen, had bolted the door. Milady turned round, and became exceedingly white. "The Count de la Fère!" she said. "Yes, Milady, the Count de la Fère in person. You believed him dead, did you not, as I believed you to be?" "What do you want? Why do you come here?" said Milady in a hollow voice. "I have followed your actions," said Athos sternly. "It was you who had Madame Bonacieux carried off; it was you who sent assassins after D'Artagnan, and poisoned his wine. Only to-night you have agreed to assassinate the Duke of Buckingham, and expect D'Artagnan to be slain in return. Now, I care nothing about the Duke of Buckingham; he is an Englishman, but D'Artagnan is my friend." "M. D'Artagnan insulted me," said Milady. "Is it possible to insult you?" said Athos. He drew out a pistol and cocked it. "Madame, you will instantly deliver to me the paper you have received from the cardinal; or, upon my soul, I will blow out your brains." Athos slowly raised his pistol until the weapon almost touched the woman's forehead. Milady knew too well that with this terrible man death would certainly come unless she yielded. She drew the paper out of her bosom and handed it to Athos. "Take it," she said, "and be accursed." Athos returned the pistol to his belt, unfolded the paper, and read: It is by my order, and for the good of the state, that the bearer of this has done what he has done. Dec. 3rd, 1627. RICHELIEU.