There fell a complete silence for a moment or two.

Chris glanced up at his father, his own heart uplifted by hope, and saw the old man’s face trembling with it too.  The wrinkled eyes were full of tears, and his lips quivered; and Chris could feel the short cloak that hung against him shaking at his hand.  Nicholas’s crimson face showed a mingling of such emotion and solemnity that Chris was seized with an internal hysterical spasm; but it suddenly died within him as he brought his eyes round, and saw that the King was staring at him moodily....

The Archbishop’s voice broke in again.

“Are we to understand, your Grace, that your Grace’s clemency is extended to Mr. Ralph Torridon?”

“Eh! then,” said the King peevishly, “hold your tongue, my Lord.  I am trying to remember.  Where is Michael?”

“Shall I call him, your Grace?”

“Nay, then; let the lawyer ring the bell!”

Mr. Herries sprang to the table at the King’s gesture, and struck the little hand-bell that stood there.  The door where the page had disappeared five minutes before opened silently, and the servant stood there.

“Michael,” said the King, and the page vanished.

There was an uncomfortable silence.  Cranmer stood back a little with an air of patient deference, and his quick eyes glanced up now and again at the party before him.  There was a certain uneasiness in his manner, as Chris could see; but the monk presently dropped his eyes again, as he saw that the King was once more looking at him keenly, with tight pursed lips, and a puzzled look on his forehead.

The thoughts began to race through Chris’s brain.  He found himself praying with desperate speed that Michael, whoever he was, might not know; and that the King might not remember; and meanwhile through another part of his being ran the thought of the irony of his situation.  Here he was, come to plead for his brother’s life, and on the brink of having to plead for his own.  The quiet room increased his sense of the irony.  It seemed so safe and strong and comfortable, up here in the rich room, with the tall window looking on to the sunlit river, in a palace girt about with guards; and yet the very security of it was his danger.  He had penetrated into the stronghold of the great beast that ruled England:  he was within striking distance of those red-stained claws and teeth.

Then suddenly the creature stirred and snarled.

“I know it now, sir.  You were one of the knaves that would not sign the surrender of Lewes.”

Chris lifted his eyes and dropped them again.

“God’s Body,” said the King, “and you come here!”

Again there was silence.

Chris saw his father half turn towards him with a piteous face, and perceived that the lawyer had drawn a little away.

The King turned abruptly to Cranmer.

“Did you know this, my Lord?”