Anthony looked at him an instant.  “Well,” he said, “I will not make a confession, because there is no use in that now—­but—­Well, listen!” he said, and sat down.

II

When he ceased, Robin lifted his head.  He was as white as a sheet.

“You have been refused absolution before for this?”

“I was refused absolution by two priests; but I was granted it by a third.”

“Let me see that I have the tale right.

“Yourself, with a number of others, have bound yourselves by an oath to kill her Grace, and to set Mary on the throne.  This has taken shape now since the beginning of the summer.  You yourself are now living in Mr. Walsingham’s house, in Seething Lane, under the patronage of her Grace, and you show yourself freely at court.  You have proceeded so far, under fear of Mr. Ballard’s arrest, as to provide one of your company with clothes and necessaries that can enable him to go to court; and it was your intention, as well as his, that he should take opportunity to kill her Grace.  But to-day only you have become persuaded that the old design was the better; and you wish first to arrange matters with the Queen of the Scots, so that when all is ready, you may be the more sure of a rising when that her Grace is killed, and that the Duke of Parma may be in readiness to bring an army into England.  It is still your intention to kill her Grace?”

“By God! it is!” said Anthony, between clenched teeth.

“Then I could not absolve you, even if you came to confession.  You may be absolved from your allegiance, as we all are; but you are not absolved from charity and justice towards Elizabeth as a woman.  I have consulted theologians on the very point; and—­”

Then Anthony sprang up.

“See here, Robin; we must talk this out.”  He flicked his fingers sharply.  “See—­we will talk of it as two friends.”

“You had better take back those words,” said the priest gravely.

“Why?”

“It would be my duty to lay an information!  I understood you spoke to me as to a priest, though not in confession.”

“You would!” blazed the other.

“I should do so in conscience,” said the priest.  “But you have not yet told me as a friend, and—­”

“You mean—­”

“I mean that so long as you choose to speak to me of it, now and here, it remains that I choose to regard it as sub sigillo in effect.  But you must not come to me to-morrow, as if I knew it all in a plain way.  I do not.  I know it as a priest only.”

There was silence for a moment.  Then Anthony stood up.

“I understand,” he said.  “But you would refuse me absolution in any case?”

“I could not give you absolution so long as you intended to kill her Grace.”

Anthony made an impatient gesture.

“See here,” he said.  “Let me tell you the whole matter from the beginning.  Now listen.”