"By M. de Barillon?" asked Sunderland gently.
"Yes, my lord. But I took no heed of it—yet is it true that my Lady Sunderland wrote often to Mr. Sidney when he was at The Hague, and that you were privy to it?"
"There was some little exchange of gallantries, sire, no more. My lady is close friends with Mr. Sidney, and would commission him for horses, plants, candles, and such things as can be bought with advantage at The Hague."
"And did she write to the Lady Mary?"
Sunderland smiled.
"She had that honour once—the subject was a recipe for treacle water."
"Well, well," said the King, in a relieved tone of half apology, "I am so hedged about I begin to distrust my best servants. I must be short with M. Barillon; he maketh too much of my friendship with His Majesty."
"That is the jealousy of France, sire, that ever desireth a hand in your affairs."
James answered testily.
"Let them take care. M. Barillon said my envoys abroad had sent me warning of what my nephew designed—that is not true, my lord?"