Very simply, he had no fear to spare for the French President or the Czar; he had begun to fear for himself.

Most of the talkers took little heed of him, debating now with their faces closer together, and almost uniformly grave, save when for an instant the smile of the Secretary ran aslant across his face as the jagged lightning runs aslant across the sky.

But there was one persistent thing which first troubled Syme and at last terrified him.
The President was always looking at him, steadily, and with a great and baffling interest.

The enormous man was quite quiet, but his blue eyes stood out of his head.

And they were always fixed on Syme.
Syme felt moved to spring up and leap over the balcony.