‘On Friday, October 28, the Count de Guerchy was dining with Lord Sandwich, and I went to dine at the French Embassy, where the company included the Countess de Guerchy, her daughter, M. de Blosset, the Count d’Allonville, and M. Monin. Soon after dinner, the Countess went out with her daughter, and I remained with the gentlemen who chattered like magpies. I began to feel unwell and very drowsy. On leaving the house, the use of a sedan-chair at the door was offered me, but I refused, preferring to walk home, where, in spite of myself, I fell sound asleep in my easy chair. Feeling worse, and as if my stomach were on fire, I went to bed early, and although in the habit of rising at six or seven, I slept soundly until midday, when La Rosière awoke me by violently kicking at the door. I have since discovered that M. de Guerchy, who has a physician in his house, caused opium to be put into my wine, in the belief that I should fall into a deep sleep after dinner, when I would have been placed in a chair, and instead of being taken to my own home, carried to the Thames, where it appears there was a boat in readiness to take me away. La Rosière will corroborate what I say.[140] ‘The following evening M. Monin came to dine with me. I spoke to him of my indisposition, and he told me that he had experienced similar, but not so serious symptoms. Several days elapsed, and the Count de Guerchy, accompanied by his two aides-de-camp, came to me before nine in the morning. They inspected my rooms, and the ambassador asked what ailed me. I replied with Burgundian candour: “I have been very unwell since I dined at your Excellency’s table on the 28th; it would appear that your scullery maids are not careful to scour their pots and pans. This comes of keeping a large establishment; one is poisoned without knowing or wishing it.” The Count de Guerchy then said: “I have ordered my butler to keep a better eye on the kitchen department, for these gentlemen and M. Monin have also felt unwell. We are going to walk to Westminster, and had you not been indisposed, I should have asked you to accompany us....” ‘Two days subsequently to the ambassador’s visit, a locksmith called to fit some screws to my door. I guessed what was to happen, but admitted the man, and feigning to be at work at my writing table, kept my eye on him. He oiled the lock, removed the key from inside to outside the door, and in doing so very smartly took a wax impression of it. I contained myself sufficiently to ask what I owed him for his labour.’