" exclaimed the King. "My appetite is grand. What soup! Why, we
might be in France. No, it is better, thicker and stronger. But what's
this? The insolence of these Englanders! Here, Denis, boy, read it
aloud." And he tossed a folded paper, one end of which was sticking out
from beneath his soup bowl, across to the young esquire.

The lad's eyes flashed, as he read in a crabbed, clear hand the words:
"_Imminent undique pericula_."

"What's that, Leoni? Bah! He isn't here," cried the King, letting his
spoon fall back into the bowl. "I thought it was the account. Latin.
Read it again."

Denis obeyed, while the King's left hand began to play with his dagger,
as he darted a suspicious look at the closed door, and then at the side
dresser upon which he had thrown his sword.

"What do you make of that, Saint Simon?" he said, in a low, deep voice.

"Sir, I do not know Latin as I should," was the reply.

"Shame on you!" growled the King. "You, Denis, you were last at school.
What do you make it to be?"

"In plain homely language, sir: Beware of danger."

"Yes, imminent danger," cried the King. "Poison! And I have eaten
nearly half my soup!"

"No, no, sir," cried Denis. "I'll vouch for this. A woman with a
motherly face like that could be trusted, I will vow."

"I don't know," said the King. "You are only a boy. Now I have grown
old enough to think that it requires a very clever man to know exactly
what there is behind a woman's pleasant smiling face. This one looks
plump and comfortable and honest; but there's no knowing. Now, if we
had Leoni here he'd fix her with that quiet eye of his, and search her
through and through with the other. He'd know. And I am beginning to
find out that I have done a very stupid thing in not bringing his
Ugliness with us. By my sword, I wish we had brought him! I wished it
last night too, over and over again, when I felt so--ah, hum--when I
couldn't sleep for the creaking and groaning of that wretched vessel."

As he pulled himself up short he looked searchingly from one to the
other of the two young men, giving each a suspicious glance, suspecting
as he did that he would find a mocking smile upon their lips; but he was
pleasantly disappointed, for Saint Simon looked stolidly stupid, and
Denis eager and expectant of the next words he should let fall.

"Well," said the King, "we haven't got him here, and we must think for
ourselves; but that must be right. The