The invention of the mouse-trap does not date from our day： as soon as society， in developing， had invented any kind of police， that police in its turn invented mouse-traps.
As perhaps our readers are not familiar with the slang of the Rue de Jérusalem， and as， in all the fifteen years we have been writing， we now for the first time apply this word to the thing， let us explain to them what a mouse-trap is.
When in a house， of whatever kind it may be， an individual suspected of any crime is arrested， the arrest is kept secret. Four or five men are placed in an ambuscade in the first apartment； the door is opened to all who knock； it is closed after them， and they are arrested； so that at the end of two or three days they have in their power almost all the frequenters of the establishment. And this is a mouse-trap.
The apartment of M. Bonacieux， then， became a mouse-trap， and whoever appeared there was taken and examined by the cardinal’s people. It goes without saying that as a private passage led to the first floor， on which D’Artagnan lodged， those who called to see him were exempt from all search.
As to D’Artagnan， he did not stir from his apartment. He had converted his chamber into an observatory. From his windows he saw all who came and were caught； then， having removed some of the tiles of his floor and dug into the planking， and nothing remaining but a simple ceiling between him and the room beneath， in which the examinations were made， he heard all that passed between the inquisitors and the accused.
The examinations， preceded by a minute search of the persons arrested， were almost all conceived in this manner：
“Has Madame Bonacieux given anything to you for her husband， or any other person？
“Has Monsieur Bonacieux given anything to you for his wife， or for any other person？
“Has either the one or the other confided anything to you by word of mouth？”
On the evening of the day after the arrest of poor Bonacieux， as Athos had just left D’Artagnan to go to M. de Tréville， as nine o’clock had just struck， and as Planchet， who had not yet made the bed， was beginning his task， a knocking was heard at the street door. The door was instantly opened and shut： some one was caught in the mouse-trap.
D’Artagnan flew to his peek-hole， and laid himself down on the floor at full length to listen.
Cries were soon heard， and then moans， which some one was endeavouring to stifle. There were no questionings.
“The devil！” said D’Artagnan to himself； “it’s a woman—they are searching her—she resists—they use force—the scoundrels！”
In spite of all his prudence， D’Artagnan had as much as he could do not to take part in the scene that was going on below.
“But I tell you that I am the mistress of the house， gentlemen！ I tell you I am Madame Bonacieux！ I tell you I belong to the queen！” cried the unfortunate woman.
“Madame Bonacieux！” murmured D’Artagnan. “Can I have been so lucky as to have found what everybody is looking for？”
“You are the very one we were waiting for，” replied the examiners.
The voice became more and more indistinct； a tumultuous movement shook the wainscoting. The victim was resisting as much as one woman can resist four men.
“Pardon， gentlemen， par—” murmured the voice， which could now be heard only in inarticulate sounds.
“They are gagging her， they are going to drag her away，” cried D’Artagnan to himself， springing from the floor. “My sword！ Good！ it is by my side. Planchet！”
“Sir.”
“Run and get Athos， Porthos， and Aramis. One of the three will certainly be at home—perhaps all three are. Tell them to arm， to come here， and be quick about it！ Ah， I remember； Athos is at M. de Tréville’s.”
“But where are you going， sir， where are you going？”
“I am going down by the window， in order to be there the sooner，” cried D’Artagnan. “Do you put back the tiles， sweep the floor， go out at the door， and run where I bid you.”
“O sir， sir， you will kill yourself！” cried Planchet.
“Hold your tongue， you stupid fellow，” said D’Artagnan； and laying hold of the window-ledge， he let himself fall from the first story， which luckily was not far， without even scratching himself.
He then went straight to the door and knocked， murmuring，
“I will go and be caught in the mouse-trap in my turn， but woe be to the cats that shall pounce upon such a mouse！”
The knocker had scarcely sounded under the hand of the young man than the tumult ceased， steps approached， the door opened， and D’Artagnan， sword in hand， rushed into M. Bonacieux’s apartment， the door of which， doubtless moved by a spring， closed after him of itself.
Then those who were still living in Bonacieux’s unfortunate house， together with the nearest neighbours， heard loud cries， stamping of feet， clashing of swords， and much breaking of furniture. Then a moment after those who， surprised by this tumult， had gone to their windows to learn the cause of it， could see the door open， and four men， clothed in black， not come out of it， but fly， like so many frightened crows， leaving on the ground， and on the corners of the furniture， feathers from their wings—that is to say， portions of their clothes and fragments of their cloaks.
D’Artagnan was conqueror， without much trouble， it must be confessed， for only one of the bailiffs was armed， and he defended himself only for form’s sake. It is true that the three others had endeavoured to knock the young man down with chairs， stools， and crockery； but two or three scratches made by the Gascon’s blade terrified them. Ten minutes had sufficed for their defeat， and D’Artagnan remained master of the field of battle.
The neighbours who had opened their windows， with the indifference peculiar to the inhabitants of Paris in those times of perpetual riots and disturbances， closed them again as soon as they saw the four men in black fly away， their instinct telling them that for the moment all was over.
Besides， it began to grow late， and in those days， as at the present， people went to bed early in the Luxembourg quarter.
