but took
up his own work again quietly.

A fortnight later, however, he heard of it once more.

He was sitting at a second table in Cromwell's own room in the Rolls
House, when one of the secretaries came up with a bundle of reports, and
laid them as usual before Ralph.

Ralph finished the letter he was engaged on--one to Dr. Barnes who had
preached a Protestant sermon at Paul's Cross, and who now challenged
Bishop Gardiner to a public disputation. Ralph was telling him to keep
his pugnacity to himself; and when he had done took up the reports and
ran his eyes over them.

They were of the usual nature--complaints, informations, protests,
appeals from men of every rank of life; agents, farm-labourers, priests,
ex-Religious, fanatics--and he read them quickly through, docketing
their contents at the head of each that his master might be saved
trouble.

At one, however, he stopped, glanced momentarily at Cromwell, and then
read on.

It was an illiterate letter, ill-spelt and smudged, and consisted of a
complaint from a man who signed himself Robert Benham, against "Mr.
Ralph Torridon, as he named himself," for hindering the performance of a
piece entitled "The Jolly Friar" in the parish of Overfield, on Sunday,
February the first. Mr. Torridon, the writer stated, had used my Lord
Cromwell's name and authority in stopping the play; expenses had been
incurred in connection with it, for a barn had been hired, and the
transport of the properties had cost money; and Mr. Benham desired to
know whether these expenses would be made good to him, and if Mr.
Torridon had acted in accordance with my Lord's wishes.

Ralph bit his pen in some perplexity, when he had finished making out
the document. He wondered whether he had better show it to Cromwell; it
might irritate him or not, according to his mood. If it was destroyed
surely no harm would be done; and yet Ralph had a disinclination to
destroy it. He sat a moment or two longer considering; once he took the
paper by the corners to tear it; then laid it down again; glanced once
more at the heavy intent face a couple of yards away, and then by a
sudden impulse took up his pen and wrote a line on the corner explaining
the purport of the paper, initialled it, and laid it with the rest.

Cromwell was so busy during the rest of the day that there was no
opportunity to explain the circumstances to him; indeed he was hardly in
the room again, so great was the crowd that waited o