Athos and Monk passed over, in going from the camp towardsthe Tweed, that part of the ground which Digby had traversedwith the fishermen coming from the Tweed to the camp. Theaspect of this place, the aspect of the changes man hadwrought in it, was of a nature to produce a great effectupon a lively and delicate imagination like that of Athos.Athos looked at nothing but these desolate spots; Monklooked at nothing but Athos - at Athos, who, with his eyessometimes directed towards heaven, and sometimes towards theearth, sought, thought, and sighed.

Digby, whom the last orders of the general, and particularlythe accent with which he had given them, had at first alittle excited, followed the pair at about twenty paces, butthe general having turned round as if astonished to find hisorders had not been obeyed, the aid-de-camp perceived hisindiscretion and returned to his tent.

He supposed that the general wished to make, incognito, oneof those reviews of vigilance which every experiencedcaptain never fails to make on the eve of a decisiveengagement: he explained to himself the presence of Athos inthis case as an inferior explains all that is mysterious onthe part of his leader. Athos might be, and, indeed, in theeyes of Digby, must be, a spy, whose information was toenlighten the general.

At the end of a walk of about ten minutes among the tentsand posts, which were closer together near the headquarters,Monk entered upon a little causeway which diverged intothree branches. That on the left led to the river, that inthe middle to Newcastle Abbey on the marsh, that on theright crossed the first lines of Monk's camp, that is tosay, the lines nearest to Lambert's army. Beyond the riverwas an advanced post belonging to Monk's army, which watchedthe enemy; it was composed of one hundred and fifty Scots.They had swum across the Tweed, and, in case of attack, wereto recross it in the same manner, giving the alarm; but asthere was no post at that spot, and as Lambert's soldierswere not so prompt at taking to the water as Monk's were,the latter appeared not to have much uneasiness on thatside. On this side of the river, at about five hundred pacesfrom the old abbey, the fishermen had taken up their abodeamidst a crowd of small tents raised by the soldiers of theneighboring clans, who had with them their wives andchildren. All this confusion, seen by the moon's light,presented a striking coup d'oeil; the half shadow enlargedevery detail, and the light, that flatterer which onlyattaches itself to the polished side of things, courted uponeach rusty musket the point still left intact, and uponevery rag of canvas the whitest and least sullied part.

Monk arrived then with Athos, crossing this spot, illuminedwith a double light, the silver splendor of the moon, andthe red blaze of the fires at the meeting of the threecauseways; there he stopped, and addressing his companion,- "Monsieur," said he, "do you know your road?"

"General, if I am not mistaken, the middle causeway leadsstraight to the abbey."

"That is right; but we shall want lights to guide us in thevaults." Monk turned round.

"Ah! I thought Digby was following us!" said he. "So muchthe better; he will procure us what we want."

"Yes, general, there is a man yonder who has been walkingbehind us for some time."

"Digby!" cried Monk. "Digby! come here, if you please."

But, instead of obeying, the shadow made a motion ofsurprise, and, retreating instead of advancing, it bent downand disappeared along the jetty on the left, directing itscourse towards the lodging of the fishermen.

"It appears not to be Digby," said Monk.

Both had followed the shadow which had vanished. But it wasnot so rare a thing for a man to be wandering about ateleven o'clock at night, in a camp in which are reposing tenor eleven thousand men, as to give Monk and Athos any alarmat his disappearance.

"As it is so," said Monk, "and we must have a light, alantern, a torch, or something by which we may see where toset our feet, let us seek this light."

"General, the first soldier we meet will light us."

"No," said Monk, in order to discover if there were not anyconnivance between the Comte de la Fere and the fisherman."No, I should prefer one of these French sailors who camethis evening to sell me their fish. They leave to-morrow,and the secret will be better kept by them; whereas, if areport should be spread in the Scotch army, that treasuresare to be found in the abbey of Newcastle, my Highlanderswill believe there is a million concealed beneath everyslab, and they will not leave stone upon stone in thebuilding."

"Do as you think best, general," replied Athos in a naturaltone of voice, making evident that soldier or fisherman wasthe same to him, and that he had no preference.

Monk approached the causeway behind which had disappearedthe person he had taken for Digby, and met a patrol who,making the tour of the tents, was going towardsheadquarters; he was stopped with his companion, gave thepassword, and went on. A soldier, roused by the noise,unrolled his plaid, and looked up to see what was goingforward. "Ask him," said Monk to Athos, "where the fishermenare; if I were to speak to him, he would know me."

Athos went up to the soldier, who pointed out the tent tohim; immediately Monk and Athos turned towards it. Itappeared to the general that at the moment they came up, ashadow like that they had already seen glided into thistent; but on drawing nearer he perceived he must have beenmistaken, for all of them were asleep pele mele, and nothingwas seen but arms and legs joined, crossed, and mixed.Athos, fearing lest he should be suspected of connivancewith some of his compatriots, remained outside the tent.

"Hola!" said Monk, in French, "wake up here." Two or threeof the sleepers got up.

"I want a man to light me," continued Monk.

"Your honor may depend upon us," said a voice which madeAthos start. "Where do you wish us to go?"

"You shall see. A light! come, quickly!"

"Yes, your honor. Does it please your honor that I shouldaccompany you?"

"You or another, it is of very little consequence, providedI have a light."

"It is strange!" thought Athos, "what a singular voice thatman has!"

"Some fire, you fellows!" cried the fisherman; "come, makehaste!"

Then addressing his companion nearest to him in a low voice:- "Get a light, Menneville," said he, "and hold yourselfready for anything."

One of the fishermen struck light from a stone, set fire tosome tinder, and by the aid of a match lit a lantern. Thelight immediately spread all over the tent.

"Are you ready, monsieur?" said Monk to Athos, who hadturned away, not to expose his face to the light.

"Yes, general," replied he.

"Ah! the French gentleman!" said the leader of the fishermento himself. "Peste! I have a great mind to charge you withthe commission, Menneville; he may know me. Light! light!"This dialogue was pronounced at the back of the tent, and inso low a voice that Monk could not hear a syllable of it; hewas, besides, talking with Athos. Menneville got himselfready in the meantime, or rather received the orders of hisleader.

"Well?" said Monk.

"I am ready, general," said the fisherman.

Monk, Athos, and the fisherman left the tent.

"It is impossible!" thought Athos. "What dream could putthat into my head?"

"Go forward; follow the middle causeway, and stretch outyour legs," said Monk to the fisherman.

They were not twenty paces on their way when the same shadowthat had appeared to enter the tent came out of it again,crawled along as far as the piles, and, protected by thatsort of parapet placed along the causeway, carefullyobserved the march of the general. All three disappeared inthe night haze. They were walking towards Newcastle, thewhite stones of which appeared to them like sepulchres.After standing for a few seconds under the porch, theypenetrated into the interior. The door had been broken openby hatchets. A post of four men slept in safety in a corner,so certain were they that the attack would not take place onthat side.

"Will not these men be in your way?" said Monk to Athos.

"On the contrary, monsieur, they will assist in rolling outthe barrels, if your honor will permit them."

"You are right."

The post, though fast asleep, roused up at the first stepsof the three visitors amongst the briars and grass thatinvaded the porch. Monk gave the password, and penetratedinto the interior of the convent, preceded by the light. Hewalked last, watching the least movement of Athos, his nakeddirk in his sleeve, and ready to plunge it into the back ofthe gentleman at the first suspicious gesture he should seehim make. But Athos, with a firm and sure step, crossed thechambers and courts.

Not a door, not a window was left in this building. Thedoors had been burnt, some on the spot, and the charcoal ofthem was still jagged with the action of the fire, which hadgone out of itself, powerless, no doubt, to get to the heartof those massive joints of oak fastened together with ironnails. As to the windows, all the panes having been broken,night birds, alarmed by the torch, flew away through theirholes. At the same time, gigantic bats began to trace theirvast, silent circles around the intruders, whilst the lightof the torch made their shadows tremble on the high stonewalls. Monk concluded there could be no man in the convent,since wild beasts and birds were there still, and fled awayat his approach.

After having passed the rubbish, and torn away more than onebranch of ivy that had made itself a guardian of thesolitude, Athos arrived at the vaults situated beneath thegreat hall, but the entrance of which was from the chapel.There he stopped. "Here we are, general," said he.

"This, then, is the slab?"

"Yes."

"Ay, and here is the ring - but the ring is sealed into thestone."

"We must have a lever."

"That's a thing very easy to find."

Whilst looking round them, Athos and Monk perceived a littleash of about three inches in diameter, which had shot up inan angle of the wall, reaching a window, concealed by itsbranches.

"Have you a knife?" said Monk to the fisherman.

"Yes, monsieur."

"Cut down this tree; then."

The fisherman obeyed, but not without notching his cutlass.When the ash was cut and fashioned into the shape of alever, the three men penetrated into the vault.

"Stop where you are," said Monk to the fisherman. "We aregoing to dig up some powder; your light may be dangerous."

The man drew back in a sort of terror, and faithfully keptto the post assigned him, whilst Monk and Athos turnedbehind a column at the foot of which, penetrating through acrack, was a moonbeam, reflected exactly on the stone whichthe Comte de la Fere had come so far in search.

"This is it," said Athos, pointing out to the general theLatin inscription.

"Yes," said Monk.

Then, as if still willing to leave the Frenchman one meansof evasion, -

"Do you not observe that this vault has already been brokeninto," continued he, "and that several statues have beenknocked down?"

"My lord, you have, without doubt, heard that the religiousrespect of your Scots loves to confide to the statues of thedead the valuable objects they have possessed during theirlives. Therefore, the soldiers had reason to think thatunder the pedestals of the statues which ornament most ofthese tombs, a treasure was hidden. They have consequentlybroken down pedestal and statue: but the tomb of thevenerable canon, with which we have to do, is notdistinguished by any monument. It is simple, therefore ithas been protected by the superstitious fear which yourPuritans have always had of sacrilege. Not a morsel of themasonry of this tomb has been chipped off."

"That is true," said Monk.

Athos seized the lever.

"Shall I help you?" said Monk.

"Thank you, my lord; but I am not willing that your honorshould lend your hand to a work of which, perhaps, you wouldnot take the responsibility if you knew the probableconsequences of it."

Monk raised his head.

"What do you mean by that, monsieur?"

"I mean - but that man - - "

"Stop," said Monk; "I perceive what you are afraid of. Ishall make a trial." Monk turned towards the fisherman, thewhole of whose profile was thrown upon the wall.

"Come here, friend!" said he in English, and in a tone ofcommand.

The fisherman did not stir.

"That is well," continued he: "he does not know English.Speak to me, then, in English, if you please, monsieur."

"My lord," replied Athos, "I have frequently seen men incertain circumstances have sufficient command overthemselves not to reply to a question put to them in alanguage they understood. The fisherman is perhaps morelearned than we believe him to be. Send him away, my lord, Ibeg you."

"Decidedly," said Monk, "he wishes to have me alone in thisvault. Never mind, we shall go through with it; one man isas good as another man; and we are alone. My friend," saidMonk to the fisherman, "go back up the stairs we have justdescended, and watch that nobody comes to disturb us." Thefisherman made a sign of obedience. "Leave your torch," saidMonk; "it would betray your presence, and might procure youa musket-ball."

The fisherman appeared to appreciate the counsel; he laiddown the light, and disappeared under the vault of thestairs. Monk took up the torch, and brought it to the footof the column.

"Ah, ah!" said he; "money, then, is concealed under thistomb?"

"Yes, my lord; and in five minutes you will no longer doubtit."

At the same time Athos struck a violent blow upon theplaster, which split, presenting a chink for the point ofthe lever. Athos introduced the bar into this crack, andsoon large pieces of plaster yielded, rising up like roundedslabs. Then the Comte de la Fere seized the stones and threwthem away with a force that hands so delicate as his mightnot have been supposed capable of having.

"My lord," said Athos, "this is plainly the masonry of whichI told your honor."

"Yes; but I do not yet see the casks," said Monk.

"If I had a dagger," said Athos, looking round him, "youshould soon see them, monsieur. Unfortunately, I left minein your tent."

"I would willingly offer you mine," said Monk, "but theblade is too thin for such work."

Athos appeared to look around him for a thing of some kindthat might serve as a substitute for the weapon he desired.Monk did not lose one of the movements of his hands, or oneof the expressions of his eyes. "Why do you not ask thefisherman for his cutlass?" said Monk; "he has a cutlass."

"Ah! that is true," said Athos, "for he cut the tree downwith it." And he advanced towards the stairs.

"Friend," said he to the fisherman, "throw me down yourcutlass, if you please; I want it."

The noise of the falling weapon sounded on the steps.

"Take it," said Monk; "it is a solid instrument, as I haveseen, and a strong hand might make good use of it."

Athos only appeared to give to the words of Monk the naturaland simple sense under which they were to be heard andunderstood. Nor did he remark, or at least appear to remark,that when he returned with the weapon, Monk drew back,placing his left hand on the stock of his pistol; in theright he already held his dirk. He went to work then,turning his back to Monk, placing his life in his hands,without possible defense. He then struck, during severalseconds, so skillfully and sharply upon the intermediaryplaster, that it separated into two parts, and Monk was ableto discern two barrels placed end to end, and which theirweight maintained motionless in their chalky envelope.

"My lord," said Athos, "you see that my presentiments havenot been disappointed."

"Yes, monsieur," said Monk, "and I have good reason tobelieve you are satisfied; are you not?"

"Doubtless, I am; the loss of this money would have beeninexpressibly great to me: but I was certain that God, whoprotects the good cause, would not have permitted this gold,which should procure its triumph, to be diverted to baserpurposes."

"You are, upon my honor, as mysterious in your words as inyour actions, monsieur," said Monk. "Just now I did notperfectly understand you when you said that you were notwilling to throw upon me the responsibility of the work wewere accomplishing."

"I had reason to say so, my lord."

"And now you speak to me of the good cause. What do you meanby the words `the good cause'? We are defending at thismoment, in England, five or six causes, which does notprevent every one from considering his own not only as thegood cause, but as the best. What is yours, monsieur? Speakboldly, that we may see if, upon this point, to which youappear to attach a great importance, we are of the sameopinion."

Athos fixed upon Monk one of those penetrating looks whichseem to convey to him to whom they are directed a challengeto conceal a single one of his thoughts; then, taking offhis hat, he began in a solemn voice, while his interlocutor,with one hand upon his visage, allowed that long and nervoushand to compress his mustache and beard, while his vague andmelancholy eye wandered about the recesses of the vaults.