n the Archbishop swiftly.

"I am living at home peaceably," said Chris; "it is true that my brother
did all this, but--but my father wishes that it should not be used in
his cause."

"If it is true," said the Archbishop, "it is best to say it. We want
nothing but the bare truth."

"But I cannot bear it," cried the old man again.

Chris came round behind the Archbishop to his father.

"Will you leave it, father, to my Lord Archbishop? My Lord understands
what we think."

Sir James looked at him, dazed and bewildered.

"God help us! Do you think so, Chris."

"I think so, father. My Lord, you understand all?"

The Archbishop's bowed again slightly.

"Then, my Lord, we will leave it all in your hands."

There was a tap at the door.

The Archbishop rose.

"That is our signal," he said. "Come, gentlemen, his Grace will be ready
immediately."

Mr. Herries sprang to the door and opened it, bowing as the Archbishop
went through, followed by Sir James and Nicholas. He and Chris followed
after.

* * * * *

There was a kind of dull recklessness in the monk's heart as he went
through. He knew that he was in more peril than any of the others, and
yet he did not fear it. The faculty of fear had been blunted, not
sharpened, by his experiences; and he passed on towards the King's
presence, almost without a tremor.

The room was empty, except for a page by the further door, who opened it
as the party advanced; and beyond was a wide lobby, with doors all
round, and a staircase on the right as they came out. The Archbishop
made a little motion to the others as he went up, gathering his skirts
about him, and acknowledging with his disengaged hand the salute of the
sentry that stood in the lobby.

At the top of the stairs was a broad landing; then a corridor through
which they passed, and on. They turned to the left, and as they went it
was apparent that they were near the royal apartments. There were thick
leather rugs lying here and there; along the walls stood magnificent
pieces of furniture, inlaid tables with tall dragon-jars upon them,
suits of Venetian armour elaborately worked in silver, and at the door
of every room that opened on the corridor there was standing a sentry or
a servant, who straightened themselves at the sight of the Archbishop.
He carefully acknowledged each salutation, and nodded kindly once or
twice.

There was a heavy odour in the air, warm and fragrant, as