“Ah!” cried Chris, dropping his hand, “my Lord of Canterbury!  My brother has had dealings with him.”

Sir James straightened himself in his chair.

“I will ask no favour of that fellow,” he said sternly.

The lawyer looked at him with a cocked eyebrow.

“Well, sir,” he said, “if you will not you will not.  But I cannot suggest a better.  He is in high favour with his Grace; they say he has already said a word for my Lord Essex—­not much—­much would be too much, I think; but still ’twas something.  And what of Master Sadler?”

“I know nothing of him,” faltered the old man.

There was silence a moment.

“Well, sir,” said Mr. Herries, “you can think the matter over.  I am for my Lord of Canterbury; for the reasons I have named to you.  But we can wait a few days.  We can do nothing until the method of procedure is known.”

Then he went; promising to let them know as soon as he had information.

* * * * *

Rumours began to run swiftly through the City.  It was said, though untruly at that time, that Cromwell had addressed a letter to the King at Henry’s own request, explaining his conduct, utterly denying that he had said certain rash words attributed to him, and that His Majesty was greatly affected by it.  There was immense excitement everywhere; a crowd assembled daily outside Westminster Hall; groups at every corner of the streets discussed the fallen minister’s chances; and shouts were raised for those who were known to be his enemies, the Duke of Norfolk, Rich, and others—­as they rode through to the Palace.

Meanwhile Ralph’s friends could do little.  Nicholas rode down once or twice to see the Lieutenant of The Tower, and managed to extract a promise that Ralph should hear of their presence in London; but he could not get to see him, or hear any news except that he was in good health and spirits, and was lodged in a private cell.

Then suddenly one afternoon a small piece of news arrived from Mr. Herries to the effect that Cromwell was to be attainted; and anxiety became intense as to whether Ralph would be included.  Sir James could eat nothing at supper, but sat crumbling his bread, while Beatrice talked almost feverishly in an attempt to distract him.  Finally he rose and went out, and the others sat on, eyeing one another, anxious and miserable.

In desperation Nicholas began to talk of his visit to the Tower, of the Lieutenant’s timidity, and his own insistence; and they noticed nothing, till the door was flung open, and the old man stood there, his eyes bright and his lips trembling with hope.  He held a scrap of paper in his hand.

“Listen,” he cried as the others sprang to their feet.

“A fellow has just come from Mr. Herries with this”—­he lifted the paper and read,—­“Mr. Torridon’s name is not in the bill.  I will be with you to-morrow.”