"Why Anthony!" he exclaimed, and took his hand, "what is your business here?" And they began slowly to walk westwards together. "I am come to meet Mr. Oldham," he said, "and to give him a message; and this is it, 'Come, for all things are now ready!'" "My dear boy," said James, stopping short, "you must forgive me; but what in the world do you mean by that?" "I come from Mr. Roger," said Anthony, "you need not be afraid. He has had an accident and sent for me." "Mr. Roger?" said James interrogatively. "Yes," said Anthony, "he hath a patch over one eye; and stutters somewhat." James gave a sigh of relief. "My dear boy," he said, "I cannot thank you enough. You know what it means then?" "Why, yes," said Anthony. "And you a Protestant, and in the Archbishop's household?" "Why, yes," said Anthony, "and a Christian and your friend." "God bless you, Anthony," said the priest; and took his hand and pressed it. They were passing out now under the west door, and stood together for a moment looking at the lights down Ludgate Hill. The houses about Amen Court stood up against the sky to their right. "I must not stay," said Anthony, "I must fetch my horse and be back at Lambeth for evening prayers at six. He is stabled at the Palace here." "Well, well," said the priest, "I thank God that there are true hearts like yours. God bless you again my dear boy--and--and make you one of us some day!" Anthony smiled at him a little tremulously, for the gratitude and the blessing of this man was dear to him; and after another hand grasp, he turned away to the right, leaving the priest still half under the shadow of the door looking after him. He had done his errand promptly and discreetly. CHAPTER VIII THE MASSING-HOUSE Newman's Court lay dark and silent under the stars on Sunday morning a little after four o'clock. The gloomy weather of the last three or four days had passed off in heavy battalions of sullen sunset clouds on the preceding evening, and the air was full of frost. By midnight thin ice was lying everywhere; pendants of it were beginning to form on the overhanging eaves; and streaks of it between the cobble-stones that paved the court. The great city lay in a frosty stillness as of death.