ant of
the evidence given by Johnson, he audaciously affirmed that he had not
visited White Webbs, and knew of no such place.

That evening, Garnet gave a shilling to his keeper, with a request to
have some oranges brought to him. This fruit, first introduced into
England about 1568, was at that time very cheap and plentiful, about
eighteen-pence the hundred being the usual price. Sir William Wade,
lounging about the gallery as usual, met the keeper as he came out of
the cell with the money in his hand.

"What would the old fox now?" demanded he.

"An 't please you, Sir, Mr Garnet asked for oranges."

"Oh, come! he may have an orange or two--he can't do any harm with them
without he choke himself, and that should spare the King the cost of a
rope to hang him," said shrewd Sir William.

But he was not quite shrewd enough, for it never occurred to his
non-Jesuitical mind that one of those innocent oranges was destined to
play the part of a traitorous inkstand by the Reverend Henry Garnet.

A large sheet of paper, folded letter-wise, came out of the prison in
the keeper's hand an hour later. It was addressed to the Reverend
Thomas Rookwood, and contained only--in appearance--the following very
unobjectionable words. They were written in ink, at the top of the
first page:--

"Let these spectacles be set in leather, and with a leather case, or let
the fould be fitter for the nose.--Yours for ever, Henry Garnett."

Who could think of detaining so innocent a missive, or prevent the poor
prisoner from obtaining a pair of comfortable spectacles? But when the
sheet of paper was held to the fire, a very different letter started
out, in faint tracings of orange-juice:--

"This bearer knoweth that I write thus, but thinks it must be read with
water. The papers sent with bisket-bread I was forced to burn, and did
not read. I am sorry they have, without advise of friends, adventured
in so wicked an action.--I must needs acknowledge my being with the two
sisters, and that at White Webbs, as is trew, for they are so jealous of
White Webbs that I can no way else satisfy. My names I all confesse but
that last... I have acknowledged that I went from Sir Everard's to
Coughton... Where is Mrs Anne?"

A few days later, on the 2nd of March, after a careful reconnoitre to
avoid the ubiquitous Sir William, Garnet applied his lips to the cranny
in the door.

"Hark you! is all well? Let us go to confession first, if you wil