de. No ominous whisper was
heard at the coffeehouses. The delay was vexatious; but Saturday the
twenty-second would do as well.

But, before Saturday the twenty-second arrived, a third informer, De
la Rue, had presented himself at the palace. His way of life did not
entitle him to much respect; but his story agreed so exactly with what
had been said by Fisher and Pendergrass that even William began to
believe that there was real danger.

Very late in the evening of Friday the twenty-first, Pendergrass, who
had as yet disclosed much less than either of the other informers, but
whose single word was worth much more than their joint oath, was sent
for to the royal closet. The faithful Portland and the gallant Cutts
were the only persons who witnessed the singular interview between the
King and his generous enemy. William, with courtesy and animation
which he rarely showed, but which he never showed without making a
deep impression, urged Pendergrass to speak out. "You are a man of true
probity and honour; I am deeply obliged to you; but you must feel that
the same considerations which have induced you to tell us so much ought
to induce you to tell us something more. The cautions which you have as
yet given can only make me suspect every body that comes near me. They
are sufficient to embitter my life, but not sufficient to preserve it.
You must let me know the names of these men." During more than half an
hour the King continued to entreat and Pendergrass to refuse. At last
Pendergrass said that he would give the information which was required,
if he could be assured that it would be used only for the prevention of
the crime, and not for the destruction of the criminals. "I give you
my word of honour," said William, "that your evidence shall not be used
against any person without your own free consent." It was long
past midnight when Pendergrass wrote down the names of the chief
conspirators.

While these things were passing at Kensington, a large party of the
assassins were revelling at a Jacobite tavern in Maiden Lane. Here they
received their final orders for the morrow. "Tomorrow or never," said
King. "Tomorrow, boys," cried Cassels with a curse, "we shall have the
plunder of the field." The morrow came. All was ready; the horses
were saddled; the pistols were loaded; the swords were sharpened; the
orderlies were on the alert; they early sent intelligence from the
palace that the King was certainly going a hunting;