seemed to have set on foot a business of his own; and
he contemplated with some excitement his future visits to Chelsea.

* * * * *

He had his first word with the King a couple of months later. He had
often, of course, seen him before, once or twice in the House of Lords,
formidable and frowning on his throne, his gross chin on his hand,
barking out a word or two to his subjects, or instructing them in
theology, for which indeed he was very competent; and several times in
processions, riding among his gentlemen on his great horse, splendid in
velvet and gems; and he had always wondered what it was that gave him
his power. It could not be mere despotism, he thought, or his burly
English nature; and it was not until he had seen him near at hand, and
come within range of his personality that he understood why it was that
men bore such things from him.

He was sent for one afternoon by Cromwell to bring a paper and was taken
up at once by a servant into the gallery where the minister and the King
were walking together. They were at the further end from that at which
he entered, and he stood, a little nervous at his heart, but with his
usual appearance of self-possession, watching the two great backs turned
to him, and waiting to be called.

They turned again in a moment, and Cromwell saw him and beckoned,
himself coming a few steps to meet him. The King waited, and Ralph was
aware of, rather than saw, that wide, coarse, strong face, and the long
narrow eyes, with the feathered cap atop, and the rich jewelled dress
beneath. The King stood with his hands behind his back and his legs well
apart.

Cromwell took the paper from Ralph, who stepped back, hesitating what to
do.

"This is it, your Grace," said the minister going back again. "Your
Grace will see that it is as I said."

Ralph perceived a new tone of deference in his master's voice that he
had never noticed before, except once when Cromwell was ironically
bullying a culprit who was giving trouble.

The King said nothing, took the paper and glanced over it, standing a
little aside to let the light fall on it.

"Your Grace will understand--" began Cromwell again.

"Yes, yes, yes," said the harsh voice impatiently. "Let the fellow take
it back," and he thrust the paper into Cromwell's hand, who turned once
more to Ralph.

"Who is he?" said the King. "I have seen his face. Who are you?"

"This is Mr. Ralph Torridon," said Cromw