"Warnings!" echoed the King, with sullen fire. "I take no warnings from an Ambassador of France." Then he sat forward and added in a quick, half-baffled fashion, "Yet there are dangers——" "What dangers, sire?" "The people are so stubborn——" "They complain but they bow, sire; and soon they will not even complain." "Then M. Barillon mentioned——" The King paused abruptly. "What, sire?" "My nephew, William." As he spoke James glanced quickly at Sunderland, who returned the gaze calmly and mildly. "My nephew, William—what is he plotting?" "Plotting, Your Majesty?" "He hath never been friendly to me," broke out the King fiercely. "Why did he refuse his consent to the Indulgence?—he who hath always stood for toleration?" "As the head of the Protestant interest in Europe he could do no less, sire." "He hath suborned my daughter," continued the King, in the same tone. "Seduced her from her duty—but now"—he crossed himself—"God be thanked, I have an heir. I do not need to so consider these Calvinists"—he gave the word an accent of bitter dislike—"yet I doubt he meaneth mischief——" "I do not think so, sire. His hands are so full in keeping his own country afloat he can scarce have the time to meddle——" The King interrupted. "He _doth_ meddle—his design is to drag me into a war with France—I doubt he hath more intrigues afoot in England than we wot of, my lord. Did M. de Zuylestein come wholly to congratulate us on the birth of the Prince? He is over often closeted with the Whig lords—and so was Dyckfelt—a knowing man." Sunderland answered frankly. "His Highness must have an interest in the kingdom of which his wife was till so lately the heiress, and I doubt not that he would try to foster discontents among the opposition, since he can hardly like the present policy of Your Majesty, having all his life been under the endeavour of persuading England to join his coalition against France—but he hath not the power (nor, I think, the will) to disturb Your Majesty." James smiled reflectively. "I believe he hath his hands full," he admitted. "He is not so steady in the states." His smile deepened as he thought on the critical situation of his son-in-law, then vexation conquered, and he added sharply, "M. Barillon said he but waited a chance to openly interfere—he would not send the English regiments back, which looked ill, and he is very friendly with Mr. Sidney——" The King paused. "Mr. Sidney is your uncle, my lord," he added, after a little, "and a close friend of the Prince of Orange—I was warned of that." "By M. de Barillon?" asked Sunderland gently. "Yes, my lord. But I took no heed of it—yet is it true that my Lady Sunderland wrote often to Mr. Sidney when he was at The Hague, and that you were privy to it?"