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

"Friend," said he to the fisherman, "throw me down your
cutlass, 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 have
seen, and a strong hand might make good use of it."

Athos only appeared to give to the words of Monk the natural
and simple sense under which they were to be heard and
understood. 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 the
right 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 several
seconds, so skillfully and sharply upon the intermediary
plaster, that it separated into two parts, and Monk was able
to discern two barrels placed end to end, and which their
weight maintained motionless in their chalky envelope.

"My lord," said Athos, "you see that my presentiments have
not been disappointed."

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