most expressive language, he consigned the body of the Abbot of
Blossholme to the gallows and his soul to hell.

"He claims my lands, does he?" he exclaimed, shaking his fist in the
direction of Blossholme. "What does the rogue say? That the abbot
who went before him parted with them to my grandfather for no good
consideration, but under fear and threats. Now, writes he, this
Secretary Cromwell, whom they call Vicar-General, has declared that the
said transfer was without the law, and that I must hand over the said
lands to the Abbey of Blossholme on or before Candlemas! What was
Cromwell paid to sign that order with no inquiry made, I wonder?"

Sir John poured out and drank a fourth cup of ale, then set to walking
up and down the hall. Presently he halted in front of the fire and
addressed it as though it were his enemy.

"You are a clever fellow, Clement Maldon; they tell me that all
Spaniards are, and you were taught your craft at Rome and sent here for
a purpose. You began as nothing, and now you are Abbot of Blossholme,
and, if the King had not faced the Pope, would be more. But you forget
yourself at times, for the Southern blood is hot, and when the wine is
in, the truth is out. There were certain words you spoke not a year
ago before me and other witnesses of which I will remind you presently.
Perhaps when Secretary Cromwell learns them he will cancel his gift of
my lands, and mayhap lift that plotting head of yours up higher. I'll go
remind you of them."

Sir John strode to the door and shouted; it would not be too much to say
that he bellowed like a bull. It opened after a while, and a serving-man
appeared, a bow-legged, sturdy-looking fellow with a shock of black
hair.

"Why are you not quicker, Jeffrey Stokes?" he asked. "Must I wait your
pleasure from noon to night?"

"I came as fast as I could, master. Why, then, do you rate me?"

"Would you argue with me, fellow? Do it again and I will have you tied
to a post and lashed."

"Lash yourself, master, and let out the choler and good ale, which you
need to do," replied Jeffrey in his gruff voice. "There be some men who
never know when they are well served, and such are apt to come to ill
and lonely ends. What is your pleasure? I'll do it if I can, and if not,
do it yourself."

Sir John lifted his hand as though to strike him, then let it fall
again.

"I like one who braves me to my teeth," he said more gently, "and that
was ever your nature. Take i