"Sire," said M. de Vaudemont, "M. de Portland asks your Majesty to excuse his attendance."
The King made no answer; he was outwardly composed, but the Elector, glancing at his face, guessed that his triumph was as nothing to him compared to the coldness of his friend. M. de Hesse broke the silence.
"M. de Kohorn lost his bet after all!" he remarked; "until this moment I had forgotten it."
"I am a hundred pistoles the richer," answered the Elector, glad of the discussion, "and yet I thought to lose—it was the victory of a few hours only."
William suddenly laughed.
"Gentlemen," he said, slightly raising his glass, "I give you the loser of that wager and the man who took Namur—Baron Menno Kohorn."
CHAPTER VI
THE KING'S AGENT
In a fine dark room of a mansion in London, three men sat in attitudes of bewildered trouble and despair, and a fourth, standing by a table of highly polished walnut wood, looked at them with a white, bitter face.
It was August of 1696, and exactly a year since the fall of Namur had induced France to consent to open negotiations for a peace. A Congress sat now at Ryswick, but with at present little hope of immediate success. The King was again with the troops in Flanders, and England was face to face with the most momentous crisis in her history. There was, literally, not enough money to carry on the Government.