I shall never forget how he looked, when I lifted my eyes and regarded him. He was standing by the window, with the light on his face, and there was an extraordinary earnestness and purpose in his features. It was near incredible that this could be the man whom I had seen so careless with his ladies—so light and indolent. But there are many sides to every man, as I have learned in a very long life.
"Sir," I cried, "what am I to say? There is nothing that I can add. This is Your Majesty's own conscience, written out in ink." (I tapped the paper with my finger, still holding it.)
"Eh?" said he.
"And by conscience God judges us all," I cried. Again I stared into his eyes, and he into mine.
"Your Majesty will have to answer to this," said I, "on Judgment Day."
I could say no more, so great was my emotion; and, as I hesitated a change went over his face. His brows came down as if he were angry, but his lips twitched a little as if in humour.
"There! there!" he said. "Give me the paper, Mr. Mallock."
I gave it back to him; and he stood running his eyes down it.
"Why, this is damned good!" he murmured. "I should have made a theologian."
And with that I knew that his mood was changed again, and that I could say no more.