ers that, when he so cried out, the page at his bedside should
wake him.

For then he was seeing the dreadful face of his great master, Privy
Seal, when the day of his ruin had come. Cromwell had been standing in a
window of the council chamber at Westminster looking out upon a
courtyard. In behind him had come the other lords of the council,
Norfolk with his yellow face, the High Admiral, and many others; and
each, seating himself at the table, had kept his bonnet on his head. So
Cromwell, turning, had seen them and had asked with his hard insolence
and embittered eyes of hatred, how they dared be covered before he who
was their president sat down. Then, up against him in the window-place
there had sprung Norfolk at the chain of the George round his neck, and
Suffolk at the Garter on his knee; and Norfolk had cried out that Thomas
Cromwell was no longer Privy Seal of that kingdom, nor president of that
council, but a traitor that must die. Then such rage and despair had
come into Thomas Cromwell's terrible face that Cranmer's senses had
reeled. He had seen Norfolk and the Admiral fall back before this
passion; he had seen Thomas Cromwell tear off his cap and cast it on the
floor; he had heard him bark and snarl out certain words into the face
of the yellow dog of Norfolk.

'_Upon your life you dare not call me traitor!_' and Norfolk had fallen
back abashed.

Then the chamber had seemed to fill with an awful gloom and darkness;
men showed only like shadows against the window lights; the constable of
the Tower had come in with the warrants, and in that gloom the earth had
appeared to tremble and quake beneath the Archbishop's feet.

* * * * *

He crossed himself at the recollection, and, coming out of his stupor,
saw that Lascelles was finishing his writings. And he was glad that he
was here now and not there then.

'Prithee, your Grace,' the gentleman's soft voice said, 'let me bear,
myself, this letter to the Queen.'

The Archbishop shivered frostily in his robes.

'I will have no more Cromwell tricks,' he said. 'I have said it'; and he
affected an obdurate tone.

'Then, indeed, all is lost,' Lascelles answered; 'for this Queen is very
resolved.'

The Archbishop cast his eyes up to the cold stone ceiling above him. He
crossed himself.

'You are a very devil,' he said, and panic came into his eyes, so that
he turned them all round him as if he sought an issue at which to run