He was dressed as a minister--for he had been one, before his pretended reconciliation to the Catholic Church--in gown and bands and wore a great periwig; and not his face only--which no man could forget who had once set eyes on it--but the strange accent with which he spoke, confirmed me that it was the man I had seen. My Lord Danby, I think it was, questioned him a good deal, as well as others: and he repeated the same tale with great fluency, with many gibes and aphorisms such as that the Jesuits had laid a wager that if Carolus Rex would not become R.C.--which is Roman Catholic--he should not much longer remain C.R. He said too that he had been reconciled to the Church on Ash Wednesday of last year; but that "he took God and His holy angels to witness that he had never changed the religion in his heart," but that it was all a pretence to spy out Papistical plots. His Royal Highness broke out, when he had done, declaring the whole matter a bundle of lies; and when one or two asked Oates for any writings or letters that he had--since he had been so long amongst the Jesuits, and was so much trusted by them--he said that he had none; but could get them easily enough if warrants and officers were given him. I suppose the truth was that he had not wit enough to write them as yet, but had thought the Windsor letters (as I may call them) would be enough. (These questions had also been put to him on the day before, but were repeated now for the King's benefit.) His Majesty himself, I think, proved the shrewdest examiner of them all. "You said that you met Don Juan, the Spaniard, in your travels, Doctor Oates. Pray, what is he like in face and figure?" "My Lard--Your Majesty," said Oates, "he is a tall black thin faylow, with swatthy features"--(for so he pronounced his words.) "Eh?" asked the King. Dr. Oates repeated his words; and the King turned, nodding and smiling, to His Royal Highness; for the Spanish bastard is far more Austrian than Spanish, and is fair and fat and of small stature. "Excellent, Doctor Oates," said the King. "And now there is another small matter. You told these gentlemen yesterday that you saw--with your own eyes--the bribe of ten thousand pound paid down by the French King's confessor. Pray, where was this money paid?" "In the Jesuits' house in Paris, your Majesty," said the man. "And where is that?" "That--Your Majesty--that house is--is near the King's own house." (But he spoke hesitatingly.) Then the King broke out in indignation; and beat his hand on the table. "Man!" he cried. "The Jesuits have no house within one mile of the Louvre!"