"Who then is to follow out the task?" said Francis. "For I like it well, and it must and shall be done. You hear me, Leoni? I have spoken now, and I will not rest, since you have roused me to this task, until this jewel glistens once more in its rightful place above my kingly crown." "Spoken like the King of France!" cried the doctor, drawing himself up. "And now, Sire, it will be done." "By whom?" cried Francis sternly. "By your servant, Sire, who has dwelt upon this for years, thought out and nurtured the plans until the fruit is ripe. By the man who possesses the energy, the guile, and the determination to serve his master in this great duty to his King." "And who is that man?" cried Francis, rising to his feet and standing proudly before his three courtiers kneeling before him; for as he uttered his next words Leoni sank in turn upon one knee and bent his head, to say in a low deep tone, almost a whisper, but which seemed to fill the silence of the place: "I, Sire--your faithful servant. I am that man." The silence for the next few moments was profound, while a cloud that had eclipsed the sun for some time past floated slowly from before the glowing orb, which poured its full beams through the gorgeous panes of the stained-glass windows of the chamber, and flooded the standing monarch with its glowing light as he made reply. His words were quick, sharp, and decisive, and fell upon the listeners like a thunderbolt, stunning them for a moment with the astonishment they felt; but they were only these: "Neither are you the man to carry out this quest. I will go myself." CHAPTER FOUR. THE DOCTOR'S EYES. For some moments the trio remained kneeling and staring up at the King in absolute wonderment; for in a few brief words he had swept away, as by the touch of a magician's wand, the gathering feeling of jealous annoyance which was forming in each breast. Leoni was the first to find the use of his tongue; but it was in a hesitating way quite foreign to his usual speech that he faltered out: "You go, Sire?" "Yes, I said so," said the King sharply. "But it is impossible, Sire. You could not stoop to do such a thing as this." "Then what's the use of being a king," cried Francis, "if one cannot do what one likes?" Leoni slowly rose to his feet and shrugged his shoulders. "That is a question I cannot answer, Sire. It forms part of the scheme of life. I have lived fifty years in the world, thirty of which have been spent in thinking and in study of my fellows. I never met one man yet who could do exactly as he liked." "Well, if you come to that," said the King, "I don't think that I ever did; but I mean to do this all the same." "But how could you, Sire? If the King of England chose to play you false he might throw you into prison." "What!" cried Francis hotly. "And hold you to ransom, Sire."