“No, no,” said Lilly.  “I understand that you wish me to set a figure and work out the solution of this affair, and if I learn from the stars that it is to King Charles’s interest to accept your offer of one hundred thousand pounds for the city of Dunkirk, I am to receive—­”

“If King Charles accepts!” interrupted the Abbe.

“Ah, I see!  Yes, yes, of course,” returned Lilly.  “I shall go to work immediately and set my figure.  Of course I do not know what I shall learn, but I shall be glad to learn from the stars that which will enable me to advise the king according to your wishes.  Two thousand pounds are two thousand pounds, and the word of a king is but a breath.”

“What will the king give you for setting the figure and working it out?  What does he usually pay you in important affairs?” asked the Abbe.

“Ah—­eh—­I—­I—­In truth,” returned Lilly, stammering, “the king, who is so liberal with his lady friends, is—­what shall I say?—­close with me, save in promises.  He buys folly at the rate of hundreds of thousands of pounds a year, while he pays for knowledge with large promises, and now ten shillings and again five.  On one occasion I assured him that he would not fail if he attempted to put through a much-cherished plan of carrying a lady to the country against her will.  He was much pleased and gave me a guinea, but borrowed it a week afterward, and—­and still owes it.”

George turned quickly to me, but, remembering that he was the Abbe du Boise, said nothing.  But I caught his meaning and, turning to Lilly, asked:—­

“Do you refer to the occasion of a certain kidnapping in which Hamilton and I consulted you?”

“Yes,” returned Lilly.

“And you allowed it to be carried out without telling us?” I asked indignantly.

“I did not know who the lady was till you came to me for help,” he answered.

“And you were able to put us on the right track to find her because of knowledge gained from the stars?” I asked, with a sharp note of sarcasm.

“No, no,” he replied coolly.  “Why trouble the stars for information that may be had as easily and more definitely elsewhere?”

“Then why did you not tell us the true source of your knowledge?” I asked warmly.

“Because I had neither right nor desire to betray the person most actively engaged in the affair.  To have done so might have cost me my life.  I gave you the information you asked, and you saved the lady through my help, without which you would not have known where to turn.  You would have been helpless.  You paid me ten guineas.  Were my services worth the fee?”

“Ah, richly,” I returned, beginning to see the whole matter of astrology in a new light.

“Then why do you complain?” he asked.  “A man, naturally, wants to know where his meat comes from, but knowledge, like a diamond, is good found anywhere.”

“I beg your pardon, Doctor Lilly,” I answered, waving my hand as a substitute for hauling down my colors.  “I turn you over to Monsieur l’Abbe once more.”