“Assuming me to be a priest?”

“Mr. Alban, I will talk no more on that point.  I tell you we know it.  But we must have answers on other points.  I will come back to Merton presently.  These are the questions.  I will read them through to you.  Then we will deal with them one by one.”

There was the rustle of a paper.  An extraordinary desire for sleep came down on the priest; it was only by twitching his head a little, and causing himself acute shoots of pain in his neck that he could keep himself awake.  He knew that he must not let his attention wander again.  He remembered clearly how that Father Campion was dead, and that Marjorie could not have been here just now....  He must take great care not to become so much confused again.

* * * * *

“The first question,” read the voice slowly, “is, Whether you have said mass in other places beside Padley and the manor at Booth’s Edge.  We know that you must have done so; but we must have the names of the places, and of the parties present, so far as you can remember them.

“The second question is, the names of all those other priests with whom you have spoken in England, since you came from Rheims; and the names of all other students, not yet priests, or scarcely, whom you knew at Rheims, and who are for England.

“The third question is, the names of all those whom you know to be friends of Mr. John FitzHerbert, Mr. Bassett and Mr. Fenton—­not being priests; but Papists.

“These three questions will do as a beginning.  When you have answered these, there is a number more.  Now, sir.”

The last two words were rapped out sharply.  Robin opened his eyes.

“As to the first two questions,” he whispered.  “These assume that I am a priest myself.  Yet that is what you, have to prove against me.  The third question concerns ... concerns my loyalty to my friends.  But I will tell you—­”

“Yes?” (The voice was sharp and eager.)

“I will tell you the names of two friends of each of those gentlemen you have named.”

A pen suddenly scratched on paper.  He could not see who held it.

“Yes?” said the voice again.

“Well, sir.  The names of two of the friends of Mr. FitzHerbert are, Mr. Bassett and Mr. Fenton.  The names—­”

“Bah!” (The word sounded like the explosion of a gun.)

“You are playing with us—­”

“The names,” murmured the priest slowly, “of two of Mr. Fenton’s friends are Mr. FitzHerbert and—­”

A face, upside-down, thrust itself suddenly almost into his.  He could feel the hot breath on his forehead.

“See here, Mr. Alban.  You are fooling us.  Do you think this is a Christmas game?  I tell you it is not yet three o’clock.  There are three hours more yet—­”

A smooth, sad voice interrupted. (The reversed face vanished.)

“You have threatened the prisoner,” it said, “but you have not yet told him the alternative.”