‘The more pliable to his will did the ambassador find me,’ continued de Vergy, ‘the more exacting did he become. After having in vain attempted many things against you, even to poisoning (for let me tell you, sir, that you were poisoned with opium; I know it from the ambassador himself, and I now tell you so), it was proposed that I should waylay and assassinate you. This infamous proposition was made to me at a moment when all the money I had borrowed for my current expenses was exhausted, and not having as yet received anything from the ambassador, I was in the greatest distress. I had given promissory notes to my landlord for lodging and board since my arrival in London, notes I hoped to meet with the salary I expected to receive. Their term had expired, and unless the money was forthcoming I was in danger of imprisonment. The Count de Guerchy knew this, and offered me a purse with one hand, and with the other—a dagger. I rejected the purse and the dagger. I am a wretch, a villain if you will, but not an assassin. In a few days I was arrested and imprisoned for debt. In vain did I appeal to him who made me leave France and attach myself to his service. My entreaties and my threats were equally powerless. The first he rejected because he made sure of your being carried off by the men sent for the purpose, and I could therefore no longer be of use to him; he scorned the latter, because I was in confinement and precluded from doing him harm. But if I could no longer see and speak to him, I was at least free to write, and I did so. Having heard of the action against you, I prepared, whilst in prison, a “Lettre aux Français”[202] in your vindication. The printing of it was secretly undertaken by Haberkorn of Grafton Street, when a fellow-prisoner betrayed me. My manuscript was taken from the printer in virtue of an order from the Chevalier Norton, and your judge, Lord Mansfield. A warrant was issued for my removal to Newgate, where I should have found myself amongst thieves and murderers; but thanks to the assistance of my relatives and friends I obtained my liberty, and the first use I make of it is to place myself at your service. The Count de Guerchy has broken the engagements by which he was in honour bound to me, and released me from mine. His Excellency has dared to summon you before the tribunals; make any use you please in self-defence of the disclosures I have made. I am at your disposal. I will admit my own faults, and prove your innocence in London, Paris, or Versailles, over the whole earth if necessary. Happy, indeed, shall I be to make reparation, by some little good, for a part of the injury I have caused you!’