morning until nine, the office of chorister, and from nine o’clock till midnight that of a waiter in the tavern.

Whilst he was talking to this lad a horse was brought to the door of Bazin’s house.

It was saddled and bridled. Almost immediately Bazin came downstairs.

“Look!” said the boy, “there’s our beadle, who is going a journey.”

“And where is he going?” asked D’Artagnan.

“Forsooth, I don’t know.”

“Half a pistole if you can find out,” said D’Artagnan.

“For me?” cried the boy, his eyes sparkling with joy, “if I can find out where Bazin is going? That is not difficult. You are not joking, are you?”