“To all of which I answered, ‘Yes.’

“‘Surely the lady is not La Belle Jennings?’ asked the king.

“‘Yes,’ I replied.

“’In that case you are the very man I want, and your lady-love can help me buy Dunkirk.  It is easy to lead a fool to do the wrong thing, and I’m sure La Belle Jennings will find a way to gain her end and ours.  If, through her, you induce King Charles to sell Dunkirk to me on my own terms, I’ll make you its governor and a rich man.  I’ll put you in a position to marry this paragon, Mam’selle Jennings, if, as I take it, lack of fortune is all that stands between you.  I do not mind telling you now that De Grammont had given me full information concerning the king’s view of La Belle Jennings and your relations to her before I wrote my first letter, inviting you to visit me.’

“I am loath to undertake so mean an office as that of inducing King Charles to sell an English city, but I cannot save Dunkirk, and I may profit by helping what I cannot prevent.  So I beg you broach the subject to Frances, cautioning her for me to take no risk, and if she is willing to use and to hoodwink the man who would not hesitate to take her life, let me know, and I shall write to you again with further instructions.

“With gratitude,

“Your friend,

“LE BLANC.”

I sought Frances, and when I told her the substance of George’s letter, she was almost wild with joy.

“Am I willing to try?” she exclaimed, laughing while tears were hanging in her eyes.  “I am not only willing to try, but am determined to succeed.  Ay, I’d sell England itself in the same cause.  Of all the men I have ever known, this king of ours is the greatest dupe.  Since the return of the court to Whitehall, he has been growing more importunate every day.  He seems to have lost what little wits he had, and does and says the silliest things one can imagine.”

“And you do not fear attempting to lead him on to sell Dunkirk?  You do not fear going too near the precipice?” I asked, wishing to weigh her self-confidence more by the manner of her reply than by her words.

She laughed and answered:  “There is no precipice, cousin Ned; nothing to fear save kidnapping, and I am always guarded against that danger; nothing to do of which I need feel ashamed, save the acting of a lie, and surely one may lie to the father of lies without sin.”

“But the lie may be recognized,” I suggested, “if one be too bold about it.”

“My lie will go little beyond a smile or two.  The king’s vanity will do the rest.  He will make himself believe that I mean more than I say.”

Frances and I felt that we were traitors to our country in helping the French king, but we knew that in the end he would buy Dunkirk from our spendthrift monarch, and that out country’s loss would be no greater by reason of our gain.  Therefore I wrote George as follows:—­

“DEAR FRIEND: