"Well, gentlemen," resumed Mordaunt, "we must set out without delay, to-day is the last day granted me by the cardinal. My ship is ready, and had you not come I must have set off without you, for General Cromwell expects my return impatiently."
"So!" thought the lieutenant, "'tis to General Cromwell that our dispatches are addressed."
"Have you no letter for him?" asked the young man.
"I have one, the seal of which I am not to break till I reach London; but since you tell me to whom it is addressed, 'tis useless to wait till then."
D'Artagnan tore open the envelope of the letter. It was directed to "Monsieur Oliver Cromwell, General of the Army of the English Nation."
"Ah!" said D'Artagnan; "a singular commission."
"Who is this Monsieur Oliver Cromwell?" inquired Porthos.
"Formerly a brewer," replied the Gascon.
"Perhaps Mazarin wishes to make a speculation in beer, as we did in straw," said Porthos.
"Come, come, gentlemen," said Mordaunt, impatiently, "let us depart."
"What!" exclaimed Porthos "without supper? Cannot Monsieur Cromwell wait a little?"
"Yes, but I?" said Mordaunt.
"Well, you," said Porthos, "what then?"
"I cannot wait."
"Oh! as to you, that is not my concern, and I shall sup either with or without your permission."
The young man's eyes kindled in secret, but he restrained himself.
"Monsieur," said D'Artagnan, "you must excuse famished travelers. Besides, our supper can't delay you much. We will hasten on to the inn; you will meanwhile proceed on foot to the harbor. We will take a bite and shall be there as soon as you are."
"Just as you please, gentlemen, provided we set sail," he said.
"The name of your ship?" inquired D'Artagnan.
"The Standard."
"Very well; in half an hour we shall be on board."
And the friends, spurring on their horses, rode to the hotel, the "Arms of England."
"What do you say of that young man?" asked D'Artagnan, as they hurried along.
"I say that he doesn't suit me at all," said Porthos, "and that I feel a strong itching to follow Aramis's advice."
"By no means, my dear Porthos; that man is a messenger of General Cromwell; it would insure for us a poor reception, I imagine, should it be announced to him that we had twisted the neck of his confidant."
"Nevertheless," said Porthos, "I have always noticed that Aramis gives good advice."
"Listen," returned D'Artagnan, "when our embassy is finished ---- "
"Well?"
"If it brings us back to France ---- "
"Well?"
"Well, we shall see."
At that moment the two friends reached the hotel, "Arms of England," where they supped with hearty appetite and then at once proceeded to the port.
There they found a brig ready to set sail, upon the deck of which they recognized Mordaunt walking up and down impatiently.
"It is singular," said D'Artagnan, whilst the boat was taking them to the Standard, "it is astonishing how that young man resembles some one I must have known, but who it was I cannot yet remember."
A few minutes later they were on board, but the embarkation of the horses was a longer matter than that of the men, and it was eight o'clock before they raised anchor.
The young man stamped impatiently and ordered all sail to be spread.
Porthos, completely used up by three nights without sleep and a journey of seventy leagues on horseback, retired to his cabin and went to sleep.
D'Artagnan, overcoming his repugnance to Mordaunt, walked with him upon the deck and invented a hundred stories to make him talk.
Musqueton was seasick.