"Very well. Let them do so—but stay. If it is indeed the regent, I may as well meet him now and say that which is in my mind. Open the door."
The door swung open and there entered the form of Philippe of Orléans, preceded by his halberdiers and followed close by a rush of humanity which the guards and the Swiss together had much pains to force back into the anteroom.
"How now, Monsieur L'as, how now?" fumed the regent, his heavy face glowing a dull red, his prominent eyes still more protruding, his forehead bent into a heavy frown. "You deny entrance to our person, who are next to the body of his Majesty?"
"Did you have delay?" asked Law, sweetly. "'Twas unfortunate."
"'Twas execrable!"
"True. I myself find these crowds execrable."
"Nay, execrable to suffer this annoyance of delay!"
"Your Grace's pardon," said Law, coolly. "You should have made an appointment a few days in advance."
"What! The regent of France need to arrange a day when he would see a servant!"
"Your Grace is unfortunate in his choice of words," replied Law, blandly. "I am not your servant. I am your master."