De Launay muttered something inaudible in answer, and turned to leave the apartment.
Von Glauben looked at him with an affectionate solicitude.
“What a lucky thing it is you never married, Roger! Otherwise you would now be going to tell your wife all about the King’s plans! Then she, sweet creature, would go to confession,—and her confessor would tell a bishop,—and a bishop would tell a cardinal,—and a cardinal would tell a confidential monsignor,—and the confidential monsignor would tell the Supreme Pontiff,—and so all the world would be ringing with the news started by one little pretty wagging tongue of a woman!”
A faint flush coloured De Launay’s bronzed cheek, but he laughed.
“True! I am glad I have never married. I am still more glad—of circumstances”—he paused,—then went on, “which have so chanced to me that I shall never marry.” He paused again—then added—“I must be gone, Von Glauben! I have to meet Prince Humphry at the quay with a message from his Majesty.”
“Surely,” said the Professor, opening his eyes very wide, “The Prince is not to be included in our adventure?”
“By no means!” replied De Launay,—“But the King is not pleased with his son’s frequent absences from Court, and desires to speak with him on the matter.”
Von Glauben looked grave.
“There will be some little trouble there,” he said, with a half sigh—“Ach! Who knows! Perhaps some great trouble!”
“Heaven forbid!” ejaculated Sir Roger,—“We live in times of peace. We want no dissension with either the King or the people. Till to-morrow night then?”