“What is he doing?”
“Putting on his cloak and gloves.”
“He’s ours,” muttered D’Artagnan.
Porthos mechanically drew his dagger from the scabbard.
“Put it up again, my friend,” said D’Artagnan. “We must proceed in an orderly manner.”
“Hush!” said Grimaud, “he is coming out.
He has put out the lamp, I can see nothing now.”
“Get down then and quickly.”
Grimaud leaped down. The snow deadened the noise of his fall.
“Now go and tell Athos and Aramis