D'Artagnan, the King Maker — page 133: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

122 The MuskKeteer’s Warrant. moaned he, ruefully rubbing his nose with a kind of wad of paper; “it has got a littl—damp, I fear. It was an advice to you, of no consequence, believe me. His emi- nence merely hoped that you ‘were in good health and ready to return to your post as soon as needs arose. Then came the usual flourishes, for which Varech was guilty, written with his tongue in ‘this cheek—the great man’s fal-lals about his subordinate future—for even he may desire the humblest retainer one day! ‘My lord is forming a splendid library, Varech tells me, and in it is, I’ll be bound, the fable of the ‘Lion and the Mou-——’ ” “Balderdash! The inclosure for me——’ “There! my ‘letter was sopped—I ‘hope yours is not spoiled. What are you grimacing about?” “Not spoiled! Wy, look! Not a word on it of that fliff-fluff, which may be Varech’s but is not Richelieu’s.” “Upon this hand of mine,” interjected Porthos, aghast, “it is blank! It must be the salt water—it has driven off the ink!” At this, suggesting an idea, D’Artagnan more nar- rowly examined the paper; then wishing to dry it or at least to warm, he thrust it within his doublet, under the armpit. ~The other stared. Presently the captain withdrew his hand and began to laugh over the paper. “Ah! 1 shave it.” “What have you—a fit of lunacy?” If one set of words had been effaced, another replaced it; by the action of iodine and the warmth, letters stood out in blue; faint but legible: D’A.—This, your warrant to any Soleiman to draw one and one-half million livres, or Spanish equivalent, being first install- ment. Fire the match! R, EOMIKE OOO] KSA(E0