“The acts of kings, sir, are outside crime. You are the anointed, and can do no wrong.”
“Of my own will, no; but this:—”
“Sir, the spirit of your country calls upon you to act. The fateful jewel we came to seek is ready to pass into your possession, and the time has come—”
“Leoni, I will not hear you. I swear I will not sully mine honour with such an act. This deed shall never be done by me.”
“Deed—deed, sir—act! You speak as if it were a crime,” whispered Leoni.
“It is a crime,” cried the King angrily. “Dare not to speak to me of this deed again. Now, enough. The King expects me back, and to-morrow I will place myself outside temptation, and leave this place. Whatever happens, my visit here is at an end.”
“Your visit ends to-night, sir,” said Leoni, in a low, harsh whisper; and as he spoke he leaned forward, passed his hands quickly before the King’s face, and then caught him by the wrist.
“Leoni!” said Francis quickly. “What means this?”
“I have told you, sir. It is too late to attempt to shrink back now that the fateful moment has arrived. Quick, sir, and in an hour’s time we shall be on our way to the coast. Silence, sir,” he whispered sharply, as Francis essayed to speak, looking half dazed the while in his companion’s eye, as Leoni leaned towards him with his hot breath passing over the monarch’s face. “This way, sir—quick!”
“Where? Where?” faltered the King. “What does this mean, Leoni?” he whispered. “Have you been tricking me with one of your accursed drugs?”