might be manufactured by a skilled hand, though as
they stood they proved nothing.

A further consideration to Ralph was his duty to Cromwell; he scarcely
felt it seemly to lie whole-heartedly to him; and on the other hand he
felt now simply unable to lie to Beatrice. There was only one way out of
it,--to prevaricate to them both.

He took up his own paper, glanced at it once more; and then with a
slightly dramatic gesture tore it across and across, and threw it on the
ground. Then he took up his pen and wrote to Beatrice.

"I have only had access to one paper against our friend--that I have
destroyed, though I do not know what Master Cromwell will say. But I
tell you this to show at what a price I value your friendship.

"Of course our friend is threatened. Who is not in these days? But I
swear to you that I do not know what is the design."

He added a word or two more for politeness' sake, prayed that "God might
have her in His keeping," and signed himself as she had done, her
"loving friend."

Then he dried the ink with his pounce box, sealed the letter with great
care, and took it down to the courier himself.

* * * * *

He faced Cromwell in the evening with a good deal of terror, but with
great adroitness; swore positively that More had said nothing actually
treasonable, and had found, on putting pen to paper, that the
accusations were flimsier than he thought.

"But it is your business to see that they be not so," stormed his
master. Ralph paused a moment respectfully.

"I cannot make a purse out of a sow's ear, sir. I must have at least
some sort of silk."

When Cromwell had ceased to walk up and down, Ralph pointed out with
considerable shrewdness that he did not suppose that his evidence was
going to form the main ground of the attack on More; and that it would
merely weaken the position to bring such feeble arguments to bear.

"Why he would tear them to shreds, sir, in five minutes; he would make
out that they were our principal grounds--he is a skilled lawyer. If I
may dare to say so, Master Cromwell, let your words against Mr. More be
few and choice."

This was bolder speaking than he had ever ventured on before; but
Cromwell was in a good humour. The peers had proved tractable and had
agreed to pass the attainder against Elizabeth Barton without any more
talk of justice and the accused's right of defence; and he looked now at
Ralph with a grim approval.

"I