“What would you say, then,” the King continued, “to the name of Williamson, or Carter, or Porter?”

“Porter!” replied the other, gazing in the King’s face—­“Porter!—­I believe, sir,” he added, “you are too generous to attempt to wring from me the names of persons connected with this business in any underhand manner; and therefore I reply to you straightforwardly, that if Captain Porter should give you any information upon this matter consistent with the tidings that I have given, or in explanation thereof, you may believe him.  He is not a gentleman I either very much respect or esteem; but I do not believe that he is one who would willingly take a part in assassination, or who would falsify the truth knowingly.”

“Sir, you confirm my good opinion of you,” replied the King:  “we have intimation of some of these proceedings from Porter, and have had intimation from other quarters also, but none such as could be relied upon till the information that you have given us to-night.  Porter’s, indeed, might have proved more satisfactory; but he does not bear a good reputation, and it was judged better to discourage the thing altogether.  He shall now be heard, and very likely the whole will be explained.  On the complete discovery of the plot, I need hardly say that any reward within reason which you may require shall be given you.”

The stranger waved his hand somewhat indignantly.  “There was a man found, sir,” he said, “to sell the blood of Christ himself for thirty pieces of silver; and therefore it can scarcely be considered as insulting to any of the sons of men to suppose that they would follow that example.  I, however, do not trade in such things, and I require no reward whatsoever for that which I have done.  I trust and see now that it will prove effectual, and I am perfectly satisfied.  If these men fall into your hands by other means than mine, and incur the punishment they have justly deserved, I have not a word to say for them, but I have only to beseech you, sir, to separate the innocent from the guilty; to be careful—­oh! most careful, in a moment of excitement and just indignation—­not to confound the two, and to make a just distinction between fair and open enemies of your government, and base and treacherous assassins.”

“I shall strive to do so, sir,” answered the King, “and would always rather lean towards mercy than cruelty.  And now, as it grows late, I would fain know your name, and would gladly see you again.”

“My name, sir,” replied the other, “must either be kept secret, or revealed to your Majesty alone.  I have long been a nameless man, having lost all, and spent all, in behalf of that family opposed to your dynasty.”

“Who have, doubtless, shown you no gratitude,” said William.

“They have had no means, sir,” replied the Jacobite, “and I have made no demand upon them.”

“It is but right, however,” said the King, changing the subject, “that I should know your name.  When I inquired who you were when we last met—­the only time, indeed, we have met, till now—­they gave me a name which I now see must have been a mistaken one.  Do you object to give it before this gentleman?”