rompted him to put himself in continual danger of that fate.

In an unguarded moment, when his tongue was loosed with wine, he had
placed himself in the power of Sir John Foterell, hoping to win him to
the side of Spain, and afterwards, forgetting it, made of him a dreadful
enemy. Therefore this enemy must die, for had he lived, not only
might he himself have died in place of him, but all his plans for the
rebellion of the Church against the Crown must have come to nothing.
Yes, yes, that deed was lawful, and pardon for it assured should the
truth become known. Till this morning he had hoped that it never would
be known, but now Jeffrey Stokes had escaped upon the ship _Great
Yarmouth_.

Oh, if only he had seen him a minute earlier; if only something--could
it have been that impious knave, Jeffrey? he wondered--had not struck
him so violently in the back and hurled him to the boat, where he lay
almost senseless till the vessel had glided from them down the river!
Well, she was gone, and Jeffrey in her. He was but a common serving-man,
after all, who, if he knew anything, would never have the wit to use
his knowledge, although it was true he had been wise enough to fly from
England.

No papers had been discovered upon Sir John's body, and no money.
Without doubt the old knight had found time to pass them on to Jeffrey,
who now fled the kingdom disguised as a sailor. Oh! what ill chance had
put him on board the same vessel with Sir Christopher Harflete?

Well, Sir Christopher would probably die; were Brother Martin a little
less of a fool he would certainly die, but the fact remained that this
monk, though able, in such matters _was_ a fool, with a conscience that
would not suit itself to circumstances. If Christopher could be saved,
Martin would save him, as he had already saved him in the shed, even if
he handed him over to the Inquisition afterwards. Still, he might slip
through his fingers or the vessel might be lost, as was devoutly to be
prayed, and seemed not unlikely at this season of the year. Also, the
first opportunity must be taken to send certain messages to Spain that
might result in hampering the activities of Brother Martin, and of Sir
Christopher Harflete, if he lived to reach that land.

Meanwhile, reflected Maldon, other things had gone wrong. He had wished
to proclaim his wardship over Cicely and to immure her in a nunnery
because of her great possessions, which he needed for the cause, but he
had