The young woman looked at him furtively.

“Listen; I am already upon the scent,” resumed d’Artagnan. “About three months ago I was near having a duel with Aramis concerning a handkerchief resembling the one you showed to the woman in his house — for a handkerchief marked in the same manner, I am sure.”

“Monsieur,” said the young woman, “you weary me very much, I assure you, with your questions.”

“But you, madame, prudent as you are, think, if you were to be arrested with that handkerchief, and that handkerchief were to be seized, would you not be compromised?”

“In what way? The initials are only mine — C. B., Constance Bonacieux.”