John. "My Lord Abbot, this is not justice; it is roguery that I will
never bear. Did you decide aught else, pray you?"

"Since you ask it--something, my son. To save costs I laid before him
the sundry points at issue between us, and in sum this is the judgment:
Your title to all your Blossholme lands and those contiguous, totalling
eight thousand acres, is not voided, yet it is held to be tainted and
doubtful."

"God's blood! Why?" asked Sir John.

"My son, I will tell you," replied the Abbot gently. "Because within
a hundred years they belonged to this Abbey by gift of the Crown, and
there is no record that the Crown consented to their alienation."

"No record," exclaimed Sir John, "when I have the indentured deed in my
strong-box, signed by my great-grandfather and the Abbot Frank Ingham!
No record, when my said forefather gave you other lands in place of them
which you now hold? But go on, holy priest."

"My son, I obey you. Your title, though pronounced so doubtful, is not
utterly voided; yet it is held that you have all these lands as tenant
of this Abbey, to which, should you die without issue, they will
relapse. Or should you die with issue under age, such issue will be ward
to the Abbot of Blossholme for the time being, and failing him, that is,
if there were no Abbot and no Abbey, of the Crown."

Sir John listened, then sank back into a chair, while his face went
white as ashes.