Suddenly the King looked up.
“For what do you wait?” he demanded. “You are free—go back—to your plot if you will, only I give you this advice—take care ’ow you sign paper’—it is dangerous—n’est pas?”
Jerome colored painfully.
“My duty to my King,” he said, “must make me appear ungrateful, but without disloyalty to my cause I can assure your Highness that I will follow no unworthy means of serving your enemies.”
“Such as Monsieur Grandval use’?” answered William, with a half-smile.
“By Heaven, no,” cried Jerome vehemently, “I have never been of that kind.”
William slightly shrugged his shoulders.
“My cousin of France is gentilhomme,” he said, “but ’e and my uncle send Monsieur Grandval to—what would you say?—murder me—voila tout.”
Jerome Caryl stood silent; mention of the Grandval affair was painful to any follower of the Stuart cause; the King touched the bell on his desk, and the high-nosed young man entered. William addressed him in his fluent French.
“Show out this gentleman,” he said, “and if Sir John be here send him in.”