“What have you to say for yourself, sir?” the King asked me.
“Much, Your Majesty. I am an American naval officer, as Commodore Paul Jones can bear witness.”
“’Tis true, Your Majesty. He sailed with me on the Alfred, and a better officer I did not have, and I say it who have a right to testify.”
“Good,” said the King. “Proceed, Monsieur.”
“I was captured with Captain Cunningham in the Revenge.”
“Give me a fleet, Your Majesty,” interrupted Commodore Jones, “and we’ll stop all that.”
The King smiled and nodded to me.
“I escaped from a British prison-ship, robbed a gentleman in England, got money from him, came to France hoping to find Dr. Franklin or Commodore Jones. Neither was in Paris. I lost my money, fell into the hands of an enemy, and was lodged in jail, whence I have been this morning brought here by Her Majesty’s gracious interference.”
“How did you lose your money?” asked the King, quite as a father might have spoken to his son. There was something pleasant about the plain, homely man. I hesitated not a moment.
“I am sorry to say, Sire, that I gambled it away.”