CHAPTER LXIII.

LONDON. When the noise of the horses had died away, d'Artagnan regained the banks of the stream, and began to make all speed across the plain, directing his course as much as possible towards London. His three friends followed him in silence, until, by making a large detour, they had left the town far behind them. "This time," said d'Artagnan, when they were sufficiently distant to proceed at a trot, "I think all is lost, and we have nothing better to do than to reach France. What do you think, Athos?" "True," said…