s; yet the King is not here, is he?"

"Then how did you pass, sir?" asked M. de Perrencourt, ignoring my last
question.

"Why, with a lie, sir," I answered. "I said I had a message for you from
the Duke of Monmouth, and the fool believed me. But we gentlemen in
attendance must stand by one another. You'll not betray me? Your word on
it?"

A slow smile broke across his face.

"No, I'll not betray you," said he. "You speak French well, sir."

"So M. de Fontelles, whom I met at Canterbury, told me. Do you chance to
know him, sir?"

M. de Perrencourt did not start now; I should have been disappointed if
he had.

"Very well," he answered. "If you're his friend, you're mine." He held
out his hand.

"I take it on false pretences," said I with a laugh, as I shook it. "For
we came near to quarrelling, M. de Fontelles and I."

"Ah, on what point?"

"A nothing, sir."

"Nay, but tell me."

"Indeed I will not, if you'll pardon me."

"Sir, I wish to know. I ins--I beg." A stare from me had stopped the
"insist" when it was half-way through his lips. On my soul, he flushed!
I tell my children sometimes how I made him flush; the thing was not
done often. Yet his confusion was but momentary, and suddenly, I know
not how, I in my turn became abashed with the cold stare of his eyes,
and when he asked me my name, I answered baldly, with never a bow and
never a flourish, "Simon Dale."

"I have heard your name," said he gravely. Then he turned round and
began looking at the sea again.

Now, had he been wearing his own clothes (if I may so say) this conduct
would have been appropriate enough; it would have been a dismissal and I
should have passed on my way. But a man should be consistent in his
disguises, and from M. de Perrencourt, gentleman-in-waiting, the
behaviour was mighty uncivil. Yet my revenge must be indirect.

"Is it true, sir," I asked, coming close to him, "that the King of
France is yonder at Calais? So it's said."

"I believe it to be true," answered M. de Perrencourt.

"I wish he had come over," I cried. "I should love to see him, for they
say he's a very proper man, although he's somewhat short."

M. de Perrencourt did not turn his head, but again I saw his cheek
flush. To speak of his low stature was, I had heard Monmouth say, to
commit the most dire offence in King Louis' eyes.

"Now, how tall is the King, sir?" I asked. "Is he tall as you, sir?"

M. de Perrencourt was still silent. To tell the t