"Of course, we need a little help from you, milor. Oh, nothing much—advice as to the spot where our good ship will be most like to find Charles Edward Stuart—a token which if shown to that young firebrand will induce him to trust its bearer, and come on board himself with at least some of his friends. You follow me, milor?"
The question seemed necessary, for Lord Eglinton's face wore such a look of indifference as to astonish even the King, who had been prepared for some measure of protest, at any rate from this man who was being asked to betray his friend. Although Louis was at this period of his life quite deaf to every call of honour and loyalty through that constant, ever-present and exasperating want of money for the satisfaction of his extravagant caprices, nevertheless, there was Bourbon blood in him, and this cried out loudly now, that he was suggesting—nay, more, contemplating—a deed which would have put any of his subjects to shame, and which would have caused some of his most unscrupulous ancestors in mediæval times to writhe with humiliation in their graves. Therefore he had expected loud protest from Lord Eglinton, arguments more or less easy to combat, indignation of course; but this ready acceptance of this ignoble bargain—so strange is human nature!—for the moment quite horrified Louis. Milor took the selling of his friend as calmly as he would that of a horse.
"You follow me, milor?" reiterated the King.
"Yes, yes, Sire," replied Eglinton readily enough. "I follow you."
"You understand the service we ask of you?"
"Yes, yes, I understand."
"For these services, milor, you shall be amply rewarded. We would deem one million livres a fair amount to fall to your share."
"Your Majesty is generous," said Eglinton quite passively.
"We are just, milor," said the King, with a sigh of satisfaction.
M. le Contrôleur seemed satisfied, and there was little else to say. Louis XV began to regret that he had offered him quite so much. Apparently five hundred thousand would have been enough.