“I had at that time a large sum in gold, and on the eve of the battle, from a presentiment perhaps of the turn which things would take on the morrow, I concealed it in the principal vault of the covenant of Newcastle, in the tower whose summit you now see silvered by the moonbeams.  My treasure has then remained interred there, and I have come to entreat your honor to permit me to withdraw it before, perhaps, the battle turning that way, a mine or some other war engine has destroyed the building and scattered my gold, or rendered it so apparent that the soldiers will take possession of it.”

Monk was well acquainted with mankind; he saw in the physiognomy of this gentleman all the energy, all the reason, all the circumspection possible; he could therefore only attribute to a magnanimous confidence the revelation the Frenchman had made him, and he showed himself profoundly touched by it.

“Monsieur,” said he, “you have augured well of me.  But is the sum worth the trouble to which you expose yourself?  Do you even believe that it can be in the same place where you left it?”

“It is there monsieur, I do not doubt.”

“That is a reply to one question; but to the other.  I asked you if the sum was so large as to warrant your exposing yourself thus.”

“It is really large; yes, my lord, for it is a million I inclosed in two barrels.”

“A million!” cried Monk, at whom this time, in turn, Athos looked earnestly and long.  Monk perceived this, and his mistrust returned.

“Here is a man,” said he to himself, “who is laying a snare for me.  So you wish to withdraw this money, monsieur,” replied he, “as I understand?”

“If you please, my lord.”

“To-day?”

“This very evening, and that on account of the circumstances I have named.”

“But, monsieur,” objected Monk, “General Lambert is as near the abbey where you have to act as I am.  Why, then, have you not addressed yourself to him?”

“Because, my lord, when one acts in important matters, it is best to consult one’s instinct before everything.  Well, General Lambert does not inspire with me so much confidence as you do.”

“Be it so, monsieur.  I shall assist you in recovering your money, if, however, it can still be there; for that is far from likely.  Since 1648 twelve years have rolled away, and many events have taken place.”  Monk dwelt upon this point to see if the French gentleman would seize the evasions that were open to him, but Athos did not hesitate.

“I assure you, my lord,” he said firmly, “that my conviction is, that the two barrels have neither changed place nor master.”  This reply had removed one suspicion from the mind of Monk, but it had suggested another.  Without doubt this Frenchman was some emissary sent to entice into error the protector of the parliament; the gold was nothing but a lure; and by the help of this lure they thought to excite the cupidity of the general.  This gold might not exist.  It was Monk’s business, then, to seize the Frenchman in the act of falsehood and trick, and to draw from the false step itself in which his enemies wished to entrap him, a triumph for his renown.  When Monk was determined how to act, —