"Very well."
"What shall I do with the horse, general."
"Look here."
The sergeant descended the three steps which separated him from Monk, and came into the vault.
"You see," said Monk, "that gentleman yonder?"
"Yes, general."
"And you see these two casks?"
"Perfectly."
"They are two casks, one containing powder, and the other balls; I wish these casks to be transported to the little hamlet at the mouth of the river, and which I intend to occupy to-morrow with two hundred muskets. You understand that the commission is a secret one, for it is a movement that may decide the fate of the battle."
"Oh, general!" murmured the sergeant.
"Mind, then! Let these casks be fastened on to the horse, and let them be escorted by two men and you to the residence of this gentleman, who is my friend. But take care that nobody knows it."
"I would go by the marsh if I knew the road," said the sergeant.
"I know one myself," said Athos; "it is not wide, but it is solid, having been made upon piles; and with care we shall get over safely enough."
"Do everything this gentleman shall order you to do."
"Oh! oh! the casks are heavy," said the sergeant, trying to lift one.
"They weigh four hundred pounds each, if they contain what they ought to contain, do they not, monsieur."
"Thereabouts," said Athos.
The sergeant went in search of the two men and the horse. Monk, left alone with Athos, affected to speak to him on nothing but indifferent subjects while examining the vault in a cursory manner. Then, hearing the horse's steps,-"I leave you with your men, monsieur," said he, "and return to the camp. You are perfectly safe."
"I shall see you again, then, my lord?" asked Athos.
"That is agreed upon, monsieur, and with much pleasure."
Monk held out his hand to Athos.
"Ah! my lord, if you would!" murmured Athos.
"Hush! monsieur, it is agreed that we shall speak no more of that." And bowing to Athos, he went up the stairs, meeting about half-way his men, who were coming down. He had not gone twenty paces, when a faint but prolonged whistle was heard at a distance. Monk listened, but seeing nothing and hearing nothing, he continued his route. Then he remembered the fisherman, and looked about for him; but the fisherman had disappeared. If he had, however, looked with more attention, he might have seen that man, bent double, gliding like a serpent along the stones and losing himself in the mist that floated over the surface of the marsh. He might equally have seen, had he attempted to pierce that mist, a spectacle that might have attracted his attention; and that was the rigging of the vessel, which had changed place, and was now nearer the shore. But Monk saw nothing; and thinking he had nothing to fear, he entered the deserted causeway which led to his camp. It was then that the disappearance of the fisherman appeared strange, and that a real suspicion began to take possession of his mind. He had just placed at the orders of Athos the only post that could protect him. He had a mile of causeway to traverse before he could regain his camp. The fog increased with such intensity that he could scarcely distinguish objects at ten paces' distance. Monk then thought he heard the sound of an oar over the marsh on the right. "Who goes there?" said he.