"We will send him to Huy until we receive the two garrisons," said William languidly, "though I doubt that we put too high a price on M. de Boufflers." "His Master," remarked M. de Vaudemont, "must redeem him even at a higher rate." "Ah, cousin," answered the King, "His Majesty will return the men for pride’s sake." "And there is the English post in," said M. Dyckfelt, "all in a reek from skirting Villeroy’s forces." "Why must you remind me of England?" asked William. Portland interposed quickly— "Surely you will return almost immediately? Is this not a good juncture to call a parliament?" "This is not a good season to discuss politics." The King administered his reproof in the gentlest manner, but Portland, with a curt bow, instantly set down his glass, rose, and left the tent. William flushed, and a kind of tremor ran through the company. They thought that the King would not take this even from Portland. But, after a second, he turned to the Prince de Vaudemont. "My cousin," he said quietly, "will you go after my lord and persuade him that he is unreasonable?" The princes glanced at each other covertly as M. de Vaudemont obeyed. M. van Keppel coloured violently; he knew perfectly well who Portland’s wrath was directed against, but his anger was not personal but for his master thus openly slighted. The King sat silent, drinking slowly and looking down at the damask cloth. In a few moments M. de Vaudemont returned alone. It seemed almost incredible that Portland should refuse to return when sent for by the King and by such a messenger; William looked up. "Sire," said M. de Vaudemont, "M. de Portland asks your Majesty to excuse his attendance." The King made no answer; he was outwardly composed, but the Elector, glancing at his face, guessed that his triumph was as nothing to him compared to the coldness of his friend. M. de Hesse broke the silence. "M. de Kohorn lost his bet after all!" he remarked; "until this moment I had forgotten it." "I am a hundred pistoles the richer," answered the Elector, glad of the discussion, "and yet I thought to lose—it was the victory of a few hours only." William suddenly laughed. "Gentlemen," he said, slightly raising his glass, "I give you the loser of that wager and the man who took Namur—Baron Menno Kohorn." CHAPTER VI THE KING’S AGENT In a fine dark room of a mansion in London, three men sat in attitudes of bewildered trouble and despair, and a fourth, standing by a table of highly polished walnut wood, looked at them with a white, bitter face.