Then they saw his approach, regarding him with lowering and wrathful glances; and at a sign from them one of the servants fetched chairs in which they seated themselves just without the choir, and the prisoner stood before them.  A man in the garb of a notary fetched a small table, with ink horn and parchment, as though to make notes of the answers of the accused.

“Your name is Anthony Dalaber,” spoke the commissary sternly; “what is your age and standing in the university?”

Dalaber explained in a few words what was asked of him, and answered some quick questions as to his removal from hall to college without betraying any confusion or hesitation.

“What made you desire to study the law rather than continue in the study of theology and divinity?”

“I had reached the conclusion that I was not fitted for the life of a priest,” answered Dalaber; “there were too many questions that troubled and perplexed me.  In the study of the law I was free from these; therefore I resolved that that should be my vocation.”

Dr. Cottisford frowned heavily.

“What need have you young men to trouble yourselves with vexed questions?  I have heard of you, Anthony Dalaber, and it is no good report that hath been brought to me.  You have been known to consort this long while with that pestilent heretic, Thomas Garret.  He has lodged with you many a time, has lain concealed in your chamber at St. Alban Hall, and has left in your charge a quantity of his pernicious books, which doubtless you have assisted him to distribute amongst other students, so spreading the poison of heresy in our godly and obedient university, and seeking to turn it into a hotbed of error and sin.”

Dalaber made no response, but his heart beat thick and fast.  It seemed as though all were indeed known.

“Speak!” thundered Dr. London, now breaking in with no small fury; “what have you to say to such a charge?”

“I have known Master Garret, it is true,” answered Dalaber, picking his words carefully.  “He is an ordained priest in the church.  He is a godly man—­”

“Peace!” roared the angry warden; “we are not here to bandy words with you, Anthony Dalaber.  We know what Thomas Garret is, and so do you.  Have a care how you provoke us.  He was known to be with you the night that he escaped first from Oxford.  He is known to have been in your chamber yesterday, ere he slipped away for the second time.  Do you dare to deny it?”

Dalaber looked with quiet firmness into the angry faces that confronted him.

“Master Garret visited me yesterday,” he answered quietly, “and went forth from my chamber after a short while, when we had offered prayer and supplication there together.”

“And whither went he?”

“I know not, unless to Woodstock, where he spoke of having a friend among the keepers,” answered Dalaber, repeating the fiction he had spoken to the prior.