Sunderland, finding neither of these matters touched the King, drew from the bosom of his grey satin waistcoat a roll of papers.
"Sir Christopher Wren showed me these this morning," he said, "and doubted if he dared bring them to Your Majesty. They are those plans for the turning of Greenwich Palace into a hospital that Her Majesty had ever at heart."
The three men watching caught their breath at the delicate bluntness of my lord. This time there could be no doubt that the King had heard; he made some incoherent answer and held out his hand for the plans, which he unrolled and gazed at.
"It should be a noble monument," said the Earl softly, "to Her Majesty and those who fell at La Hogue fight. Sir Christopher would have an inscription along the river frontage saying she built it, and a statue of her—looking along the Thames to London."
The King answered in a low voice—
"Let it be put in hand at once."
"Will Your Majesty see Sir Christopher?"
William lifted his eyes from the drawings.
"No—let him get to work," he murmured; then, after a second, "Do you not think it will be a worthy monument?"
"So fine that I can but think of one more worthy," answered Sunderland.