"It will be Tower Hill for me!" cried M. D'Albeville. "I dare keep silent no longer—if my Lord President goeth, what protection have I got?"
"M. de Sunderland shall not go until I have sailed from Helvoetsluys," said William. "How much hath M. D'Avaux promised you for telling everything to the Court of St. James?"
M. D'Albeville shrugged, but obviously brightened as the talk changed to money.
"You are quite mistaken, Your Highness——"
"How much was it?" interrupted William.
"Naturally, if I could help M. D'Avaux—I should expect some consideration for the trouble——"
The Prince for a moment took his great eyes from the Irishman and addressed a rapid sentence in Dutch to M. Dyckfelt, who at once went to the Chinese bureau at the side of the fireplace and unlocked a drawer.
"I must deliver the message to the States," said M. D'Albeville, between cringing and defiance. He was really afraid of what might have happened in England—Sunderland might be in disgrace, and the whole intrigue discovered by James, for all he knew.
"It is my wish that you should," answered William. "It will come very pat with M. D'Avaux his message."
M. Dyckfelt put on the table a gold standish, a sheet of paper, and a casket, which last the Prince kept before himself.