Maxwell grasped Jessie's arm; he spoke with a fierce indrawing of his breath.
"Do you see that?" he whispered "Do you recognize anybody in that figure standing there—the man, I mean?"
"The King of Asturia," Jessie replied promptly. It was not possible to be quite certain at that distance, but the dining-room was flooded with light. Beyond doubt here was the ruler of Asturia, whom Jessie had left not so long before in a state of collapse.
"Look at him," Maxwell said in tones of the deepest contempt. "Look at the smiling scoundrel. And yet to save him and his kingdom one of the noblest women in England is risking her all. For his sake General Maxgregor does outrage to his feelings and conceals his passionate love for the queen. I would give ten years of my life to know what is going on there."
It was impossible to hear, however. It was also impossible to see anything from the near side of the road. Jessie's anger was almost as passionate as that of her companion. It seemed a lamentable thing that the King of Asturia should be so lost to all sense of his position. And he must have known that he was making himself quite at home in the house of his deadliest enemy.
CHAPTER XXIII
GENERAL MAXGREGOR
Maxwell's coolness had come back to him again. His face was alert and vigorous; his anger had gone.