“Sir, may I ask who is Doctor Tonge’s informant?”

His Majesty glanced up at me as if he saw me for the first time.

“Tell him, Chiffinch,” he said.

“His name is Doctor Oates,” said the page.  “He was a Papist once, and is turned informer, he says.  He still feigns secretly to be friends with one or two of the Jesuits, he says.”

“But every word you hear here is sub sigillo, Mr. Mallock,” added the King.

I knew no such name; and said no more.  I had never heard of the man.

“Have you anything to say, Mr. Mallock?” asked the King presently.

“I have some reports to hand in, Sir,” I said, “but they do not bear directly upon this matter.”

The King lifted his heavy eyes and let them fall again.  He appeared weary and dispirited.

* * * * *

When we broke up at last, nothing was decided.  On the one hand the letters were not destroyed, and the Duke was still unforbidden to pursue his researches; and, on the other there was no permission for a public inquiry to be held.  The counsels, in short, were divided; and that is the worst state of all.  The Duke said nothing to me, either at the table or before he went out with Mr. Bedingfeld—­or Mr. Mumford as he was usually called:  he appeared to consider me too young to be of any importance, and to tolerate me only because the King wished it.  I handed to Mr. Chiffinch the reports of what folks had said to me in taverns and elsewhere:  and went away.

The days went by; and nothing of any importance appeared further.  I still frequented the company of the Jesuit Fathers, and the taverns as before; but no more was heard, until a few days before the end of September.  On that day I was passing through the Court of Whitehall to see if there were anything for me at Mr. Chiffinch’s—­for the King was at Windsor again—­when I saw Father Whitbread and Father Ireland, coming swiftly out from the way that led to the Duke’s lodgings—­for he stayed here a good deal during these days.  They were talking together, and did not see me till I was close upon them.  When I greeted them, they stopped all of a sudden.

“The very man!” said Mr. Whitbread.

Then he asked me whether I would come with them to the lodgings of Mr. Fenwick, for they had something to say to me; and I went with them very willingly, for it appeared to me that perhaps they had heard of the matter which I had found so hard to keep from them.  We said nothing at all on the way; and when we got within, Mr. Whitbread told Mr. Grove to stand at the foot of the stairs that no one might come up without his knowledge.  They bolted the door also, when we were within the chamber.  Then we all sat down.

“Now, Mr. Mallock,” said Father Whitbread, “we know all that you know; and why you have been with us so much; and we thank you for your trouble.”

I said nothing; but I bowed to them a little.  But I knew that I had been of little service as yet.