matter.

"I wish you to go to him," said his master, "and to get him into talk.
But I do not see how it can be managed."

"He knows I am in your service, sir," suggested Ralph.

"Yes, yes," said Cromwell a little impatiently, "that is it. He is no
fool, and will not talk. This is what I thought of. That you should go
to him from me, and feign that you are on his side in the matter. But
will he believe that?" he ended gloomily, looking at the other
curiously.

There was silence for a minute, while Cromwell drummed his fingers
softly on the table. Then presently Ralph spoke.

"There is this, sir," he said. "I might speak to him about my brother
Chris who, as I told you, has gone to Lewes at the Maid's advice, and
then see what Master More has to say."

Cromwell still looked at him.

"Yes," he said, "that seems reasonable. And for the rest--well, I will
leave that in your hands."

They talked a few minutes longer about Sir Thomas More, and Cromwell
told the other what a quiet life the ex-Chancellor had led since his
resignation of office, of his house at Chelsea, and the like, and of the
decision that he had apparently come to not to mix any further in public
affairs.