He could see the long muscled arm where it stretched out of a hole in the net, a bottle of brandy dangling loosely from the pale fingertip that was jammed into it in place of a cork, two faces and two sets of eyes below it, upside-down in two ruddy faces and, whatever had brought his two friends to this pass, it seemed to have been clothing optional.

"Porthos," Athos grinned, waggling the bottle in greeting while Aramis simply closed his eyes.

"How did – no, don't tell me," Porthos said, as he stepped forward and drew his knife to set them free.