When supper was over and the servants were clearing away, Cromwell went
to the window where the glass glowed overhead with his new arms and
scrolls--a blue coat with Cornish choughs and a rose on a fess between
three rampant lions--and stood there, a steady formidable figure, with
his cropped head and great jowl, looking out on to the garden.

When the men had gone he turned again to Ralph.

"I have something for you," he said, "but it is greater than those other
matters--a fool could not do it. Sit down."

He came across the room to the fireplace, as Ralph sat down, and himself
took a chair by the table, lifting the baudkin cushion and settling it
again comfortably behind him.

"It is this," he said abruptly. "You know that Master More has been in
trouble. There was the matter of the gilt flagon which Powell said he
had taken as a bribe, and the gloves lined with forty pound. Well, he
disproved that, and I am glad of it, glad of it," he repeated steadily,
looking down at his ring and turning it to catch the light. "But there
is now another matter--I hear he has been practising with the Holy Maid
and hearkening to her ravings, and that my Lord of Rochester is in it
too. But I am not sure of it."

Cromwell stopped, glanced up at Ralph a moment, and then down again.

"I am not sure of it," he said again, "and I wish to be. And I think you
can help me."

Ralph waited patiently, his heart beginning to quicken. This was a great