Again it was doubtful if the King heard; he fixed his large mournful eyes steadily upon the Earl, and made no sign nor answer. Sunderland, finding neither of these matters touched the King, drew from the bosom of his grey satin waistcoat a roll of papers. "Sir Christopher Wren showed me these this morning," he said, "and doubted if he dared bring them to Your Majesty. They are those plans for the turning of Greenwich Palace into a hospital that Her Majesty had ever at heart." The three men watching caught their breath at the delicate bluntness of my lord. This time there could be no doubt that the King had heard; he made some incoherent answer and held out his hand for the plans, which he unrolled and gazed at. "It should be a noble monument," said the Earl softly, "to Her Majesty and those who fell at La Hogue fight. Sir Christopher would have an inscription along the river frontage saying she built it, and a statue of her—looking along the Thames to London." The King answered in a low voice— "Let it be put in hand at once." "Will Your Majesty see Sir Christopher?" William lifted his eyes from the drawings. "No—let him get to work," he murmured; then, after a second, "Do you not think it will be a worthy monument?" "So fine that I can but think of one more worthy," answered Sunderland. A languid colour touched the King’s hollow cheek. "What is that?" "The completion of Your Majesty’s life-work." There was silence. The King paled again and looked out of the window. "I cannot talk of business," he said hoarsely, after a while. "I speak of the Queen—her wishes," answered Sunderland. "She greatly desired the building of Greenwich Hospital, but she still more desired the preservation of this realm—and of the Republic." At this last word the King gave a little shiver. "The Republic," repeated Sunderland, "needeth Your Majesty." William looked round again—his face was troubled. "You speak to a dead man," he said, in a hurried whisper. "I have finished." "If that be so," replied the Earl, "we and the United Provinces are lost, and King Louis will triumph after all, yea, after all the toil, and loss, and patience, and endeavour, France will triumph over Europe. Your Majesty had better not have flung the gauntlet in ’72—better to have bowed to France then than submit now." The King seemed disturbed; he laid the plans of Greenwich down and moved his hands restlessly. "I am not fit for—anything," he muttered. "I am not capable of military command—there are others—I have been at this work twenty years—let some other take it up——" "There is no other," said Sunderland. "This is Your Majesty’s task, and no one else can undertake it." The King looked round in a desperate fashion; he saw the three men at the other end of the room. "Why do you come bating me?" he asked. "I tell you there is nothing more in me"—he laid his hand on his heart—"all is dead—here." A sudden violent cough shook him; he gasped with pain.