He had been sitting in Cromwell’s room in the Chancery all through one morning, working at the evidence that was flowing in from all sides of disaffection to Henry’s policy, sifting out worthless and frivolous charges from serious ones.  Every day a flood of such testimony poured in from the spies in all parts of the country, relating to the deepening dissatisfaction with the method of government; and Cromwell, as the King’s adviser, came in for much abuse.  Every kind of manifestation of this was reported, the talk in the ale-houses and at gentlemen’s tables alike, words dropped in the hunting-field or over a game of cards; and the offenders were dealt with in various ways, some by a sharp rebuke or warning, others by a sudden visit of a pursuivant and his men.

Ralph made his report as usual at the end of the morning, and was on the point of leaving, when his master called him back from the door.

“A moment,” he said, “I have something to say.  Sit down.”

When Ralph had taken the chair again that he had just left, Cromwell took up a pen, and began to play with it delicately as he talked.

“You will have noticed,” he began, “how hot the feeling runs in the country, and I am sure you will also have understood why it is so.  It is not so much what has happened,—­I mean in the matter of the marriage and of the friars,—­but what folk fear is going to happen.  It seems to the people that security is disappearing; they do not understand that their best security lies in obedience.  And, above all, they think that matters are dangerous with regard to the Church.  They know now that the Pope has spoken, and that the King pays no heed, but, on the other hand, waxes more bold.  And that because his conscience bids him.  Remember that, sir, when you have to do with his Highness.”

He glanced at Ralph again, but there was no mockery in his solemn eyes.  Then he went on.

“I am going to tell you, Mr. Torridon, that these folks are partly right, and that his Grace has not yet done all that he intends.  There is yet one more step to take—­and that is to declare the King supreme over the Church of England.”

Ralph felt those strong eyes bent upon him, and he nodded, making no sign of approval or otherwise.

“This is no new thing, Mr. Torridon,” went on Cromwell, after a moment’s silence.  “The King of England has always been supreme, though I will acknowledge that this has become obscured of late.  But it is time that it be re-affirmed.  The Popes have waxed presumptuous, and have laid claim to titles that Christ never gave them, and it is time that they be reminded that England is free, and will not suffer their domination.  As for the unity of the Catholic Church, that can be attended to later on, and on firmer ground; when the Pope has been taught not to wax so proud.  There will be an Act passed by Parliament presently, perhaps next year, to do this business, and then we shall know better what to do.  Until that, it is very necessary, as you have already seen, to keep the folks quiet, and not to suffer any contradiction of his Grace’s rights.  Do you understand me, Mr. Torridon?”