ow himself broke in.

"I am glad you think that, sir. I think so myself. Though it cannot be
proved as you say, it is far best that His Grace should know all. Indeed
I think I should have told him in any case."

"Then, my Lord, if you think well," went on Mr. Herries, "you might lay
before his Grace that this is a free and open confession. Mr. Torridon
did burn papers, and important ones; but they would not have served
anything. Master Cromwell was cast without them."

"But Mr. Torridon did not know that?" questioned the Archbishop blandly.

"Yes, my Lord," cried Sir James, "he must have known--that my Lord
Cromwell--"

The Archbishop lifted his hand delicately.

"Master Cromwell," he corrected.

"Master Cromwell," went on the old man, "he must have known that Mr.
Cromwell had others, more important, that would be certainly found and
used against him."

"Then why did he burn them? You understand, sir, that I only wish to
know what I have to say to his Grace."

"He burned them, my Lord, because he could not bear that his hand should
be lifted against his master. Surely that is but loyal and good!"

The Archbishop nodded quietly three or four times.

"And you desire that his Grace will take order to have Mr. Torridon
released?"

"That is it, my Lord," said the lawyer.

"Yes, I understand. And can you give any pledge for Mr. Torridon's good
behaviour?"

"He has served Mr. Cromwell," answered the lawyer, "very well for many
years. He has been with him in the matter of the Religious Houses; he
was one of the King's Visitors, and assisted in the--the destruction of
Lewes priory; and that, my Lord, is a sufficient--"

Sir James gave a sudden sob.

"Mr. Herries, Mr. Herries--"

Cranmer turned to him smiling.

"I know what you feel, sir," he said. "But if this is true--"

"Why, it is true! God help him," cried the old man.

"Then that is what we need, sir; as you said just now. Yes, Mr.
Herries?"

The lawyer glanced at the old man again.

"That is sufficient guarantee, my Lord, that Mr. Ralph Torridon is no
enemy of his Grace's projects."

"I cannot bear that!" cried Sir James.

Nicholas, who had been looking awed and open-mouthed from one to the
other, took him by the arm.

"You must, father," he said. "It--it is devilish; but it is true. Chris,
have you nothing?"

The monk came forward a step.

"It is true, my Lord," he said. "I was a monk of Lewes myself."

"And you have conformed," put i