“I will sign it, sir,” he said, “I will sign it.”

When the monk had left the room, leaving his signed confession behind him, Dr. Layton turned beaming to Ralph.

“Thank God!” he said piously.  “I do not know what we should have done if he had refused; but now we hold him and his prior too.  How have you fared, Mr. Torridon?”

Ralph told him a little of his experiences since his last report, of a nunnery where all but three had been either dismissed or released; of a monastery where he had actually caught a drunken cellarer unconscious by a barrel, and of another where he had reason to fear even worse crimes.

“Write it all down, Mr. Torridon,” cried the priest, “and do not spare the adjectives.  I have some fine tales for you myself.  But we must despatch this place first.  We shall have grand sport in the chapter-house to-morrow.  This prior is a poor timid fellow, and we can do what we will with him.  Concealed treason is a sharp sword to threaten him with.”

Ralph remarked presently that he had a brother a monk here.

“But you can do what you like to him,” he said.  “I have no love for him.  He is an insolent fellow.”

Dr. Layton smiled pleasantly.

“We will see what can be done,” he said.

* * * * *

Ralph slept that night in the guest-house, in the same room that Chris had occupied on his first coming.  He awoke once at the sound of the great bell from the tower calling the monks to the night-office, and smiled at the fantastic folly of it all.  His work during the last month had erased the last remnants of superstitious fear, and to him now more than ever the Religious Houses were but noisy rookeries, clamant with bells and chanting, and foul with the refuse of idleness.  The sooner they were silenced and purged the better.

He did not trouble to go to mass in the morning, but lay awake in the white-washed room, hearing footsteps and voices below, and watching the morning light brighten on the wall.  He found himself wondering once or twice what Chris was doing, and how he felt; he did not rise till one of his men looked in to tell him that Dr. Layton would be ready for him in half-an-hour, if he pleased.

The chapter-house was a strange sight as he entered it from the cloister.  It was a high oblong chamber some fifty feet long, with arched roof like a chapel, and a paved floor.  On a dozen stones or so were cut inscriptions recording the presence of bodies entombed below, among them those of Earl William de Warenne and Gundrada, his wife, founders of the priory five centuries ago.  Ralph caught sight of the names as he strode through the silent monks at the door and entered the chamber, talking loudly with his fellow-Visitor.  The tall vaulted room looked bare and severe; the seats ran round it, raised on a step, and before the Prior’s chair beneath the crucifix stood a large table covered with papers.  Beneath it, and emerging on to the floor lay a great heap of vestments and precious things which Dr. Layton had ordered to be piled there for his inspection, and on the table itself for greater dignity burned two tapers in massive silver candlesticks.