There entered the room an elderly man of dignified appearance and military bearing. He was lame; he may have been at some time wounded. He spoke with a French accent. It was plainly to be seen that he was a French military officer. Why had he come here? Where had he been hiding? The committee received him cautiously and inquired in regard to the nature of his mission. "His Most Christian Majesty the King of France," said he, "has heard of your struggle for a defense of your rights and for liberty. He has desired me to meet you as his representative, and to express to you his respect and sympathy, and to say to you in secrecy that should the time come when you needed aid, his assistance would not be withheld." This was news of moment. The committee expressed their gratitude and satisfaction, and said: "Will you give us the evidence of your authority that we may present it to Congress?" His answer was strange. "Gentlemen," said he, drawing his hand across his throat, "I shall take care of my head." "But," said one of the committee, "in an event of such importance we desire to secure the friendly opinion of Congress." "Gentlemen," making the same gesture, "I shall take care of my head." He then said impressively: "If you want arms, you may have them; if you want ammunition, you may have it; if you want money, you may have it. Gentlemen, I shall take care of my head." He went out and disappeared from public view. He is such a mysterious character in our history as to recall the man with the Iron Mask. Did he come from the King of France? None knew, or could ever tell. Diplomacy employed secret messengers at this time. It was full of suggestions, intrigues, and mysteries. But there was one thing that this lame but courtly French officer did: he made an impression on the minds of the committee that the colonies had a friend in his "Most Christian Majesty the King of France," and from him they might hope for aid and for an alliance in their struggle for independence. Here was topic indeed for the secret committee.