“I begin to suspect something.”

“What is it?”

“Monsieur d’Artagnan, you are getting thin.”

“Oh!” said D’Artagnan, striking his chest which sounded like an empty cuirass, “it is impossible, Planchet.”

“Ah!” said Planchet, slightly overcome; “if you were to get thin in my house — ”

“Well?”

“I should do something rash.”

“What would you do?

Tell me.”

“I should look out for the man who was the cause of all your anxieties.”