be expert murders but in whom he could put no trust.  In Motley’s words:  “Many unsatisfactory assassins had presented themselves from time to time, and Alexander had paid money in hand to various individuals—­Italians, Spaniards, Lorrainers, Scotchmen, Englishmen, who had generally spent the sums received without attempting the job.  Others were supposed to be still engaged in the enterprise, and at that moment there were four persons—­each unknown to the others, and of different nations—­in the city of Delft, seeking to compass the death of William the Silent.  Shag-eared, military, hirsute ruffians, ex-captains of free companies and such marauders, were daily offering their services; there was no lack of them, and they had done but little.  How should Parma, seeing this obscure, undersized, thin-bearded, runaway clerk before him, expect pith and energy from him?  He thought him quite unfit for an enterprise of moment, and declared as much to his secret councillors and to the King.”

Gerard, however, had supporters, and in time the Prince of Parma came to take a more favourable view of his qualifications and sincerity, but his confidence was insufficient to warrant him in advancing any money for the purpose.  The result was that Gerard, whose dominating idea amounted to mania, proceeded in his own way.  His first step was to ingratiate himself with the Prince of Orange.  This he did by a series of misrepresentations and fraud, and was recommended by the Prince to the Signeur of Schoneval, who on leaving Delft on a mission to the Duke of Anjou, added him to his suite.

The death of the Duke gave Gerard his chance, and he obtained permission to carry despatches to the Prince of Orange, as we have seen.  The Prince received him in his bedroom, after his wont.  Motley now relates the tragedy:  “Here was an opportunity such as he (Gerard) had never dared to hope for.  The arch-enemy to the Church and to the human race, whose death would confer upon his destroyer wealth and nobility in this world, besides a crown of glory in the next, lay unarmed, alone, in bed, before the man who had thirsted seven long years for his blood.

“Balthazar could scarcely control his emotions sufficiently to answer the questions which the Prince addressed to him concerning the death of Anjou, but Orange, deeply engaged with the despatches, and with the reflections which their deeply important contents suggested, did not observe the countenance of the humble Calvinistic exile, who had been recently recommended to his patronage by Villiers.  Gerard had, moreover, made no preparation for an interview so entirely unexpected, had come unarmed, and had formed no plan for escape.  He was obliged to forego his prey most when within his reach, and after communicating all the information which the Prince required, he was dismissed from the chamber.