At this I could not help giving expression to my gladness; indeed so loud was the sound that escaped my lips that the king heard me. "Who is there?" he cried angrily. A minute later I was brought into the room where the king was. I saw that his usually pale face had become of a purplish hue, while his slits of eyes shot an angry light. "How now sirrah!" he cried, as I stood before him, "hast thou heard aught of the conversation between me and this maid?" "I heard it all, sire." For a moment he did not speak, gazing first at Constance and then at me. I also cast a hasty glance at the woman I loved, and in spite of my helplessness my heart rejoiced. Her face was pale, but she showed no fear, rather there was a look of confidence in her eyes, and an expression of unalterable determination. Whether Charles II. realized this I know not, but I saw he was in no humour to be played with. Perchance this was the first time his will had been opposed since he had come back to England, for since that day I had first seen him at Dover he had received little but fulsome adulation. "Thou hast heard all!" "All, sire," I replied steadily, for now I felt no scrap of fear. For let who will say otherwise, Charles II., although King of England, was not a man to inspire reverence or awe. He looked cunning rather than thoughtful, sensuous rather than noble; one who, if he was kind, was kind because it was less troublesome than to be cruel. He did not impress me with his kingly presence, rather I thought of him even then as a weak despot. He seemed to hesitate a moment as if to recall the conversation which had taken place between himself and Constance, and then as if he realized that nought of great importance was said, his brow cleared and a look of resolution came into his eyes. "Thou knowest then that this maid, Mistress Constance Leslie, hath again refused to obey her king?" "Yes, sire." "But, mark you, I will know the truth. Look you, young sir, I judged that you know where her sister is. Speak the truth. I can detect a lie a mile away." "I will tell you no lies, sire!" "Then I repeat the question, 'Do you know where this maid's sister is?'" "No, sire." "But you can make a shrewd guess? Come, yes or no. You believe you know where she is?" "Yes," I made answer. "Ah, that is good. And now we will see, Mistress Constance, who is master. Now we will see whether the king will not have his way." And then again he said that which I will not write down. Surely, I have told myself since, he must have been brutalized by too much wine, or he would never have spoken as he did, for his speech was that of a villain in a fourth rate stage play, rather than of one in whose veins ran royal blood.