“All that is true, monsieur:  my destiny, my future, my obscurity, or my glory depend upon that man; but what do you draw from that?”

“One thing alone, that if this General Monk is troublesome to the point your majesty describes, it would be expedient to get rid of him or make an ally of him.”

“Monsieur, a king who has neither army nor money, as you have heard my conversation with my brother Louis, has no means of acting against a man like Monk.”

“Yes, sire, that was your opinion, I know very well:  but, fortunately for you, it was not mine.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“That, without an army and without a million, I have done — I, myself — what your majesty thought could alone be done with an army and a million.”

“How!  What do you say?  What have you done?”

“What have I done?  Eh! well, sire, I went yonder to take this man who is so troublesome to your majesty.”

“In England?”

“Exactly, sire.”

“You went to take Monk in England?”

“Should I by chance have done wrong, sire?”

“In truth, you are mad, monsieur!”

“Not the least in the world, sire.”

“You have taken Monk?”

“Yes, sire.”

“Where?”

“In the midst of his camp.”

The king trembled with impatience.

“And having taken him on the causeway of Newcastle, I bring him to your majesty,” said D’Artagnan, simply.

“You bring him to me!” cried the king, almost indignant at what he considered a mystification.

“Yes, sire,” replied D’Artagnan, in the same tone, “I bring him to you; he is down below yonder, in a large chest pierced with holes, so as to allow him to breathe.”

“Good God!”

“Oh! don’t be uneasy, sire, we have taken the greatest possible care of him.  He comes in good state, and in perfect condition.  Would your majesty please to see him, to talk with him, or to have him thrown into the sea?”

“Oh, heavens!” repeated Charles, “oh, heavens! do you speak the truth, monsieur?  Are you not insulting me with some unworthy joke?  You have accomplished this unheard-of act of audacity and genius — impossible!”

“Will your majesty permit me to open the window?” said D’Artagnan, opening it.

The king had not time to reply yes or no.  D’Artagnan gave a shrill and prolonged whistle, which he repeated three times through the silence of the night.

“There!” said he, “he will be brought to your majesty.”

Chapter XXIX: 
In which D’Artagnan begins to fear he has placed his Money and that of
Planchet in the Sinking Fund.