whether I would have an interpreter. And I accepting of the same with gratitude, they sent a messenger, who presently returned, bringing with him a Jesuit priest, clothed, as their manner is, in a long black gown, with a collar and rings, and a high round cap flat at the top, and this person did take his stand beside my lord the Grand Inquisidor, for to interpret to me what he should say. At the command, then, of his lordship, this Paulistin asked of me, in outlandish enough English, concerning my name and state of life, both which I gave him, and then concerning the cause of my arrest, to which I made answer that to the best of my belief ’twas my not complying with the superstitious custom of the place--viz., in my refusing to bow to the procession that went past, carrying the Host with it. And upon this, with great solemnity, the interpreter adjured me to make a full confession of all the matters whereof I was accused, for that then the Holy Office should exercise its right of mercy, and release me speedily, with great advantage gained to my soul. He bade me also search and see whether my conscience warned me of no other crimes, for the which I might worthily be brought to trial and punished, but I made answer that I knew not what they might account crimes, but that so far as I remembered I could not charge myself with any that need come under their lordships’ notice. Furthermore, I declared to them that I was a subject of the King of England, and desired to be assisted by some consul or other officer of his majesty’s, and also threatened them with our fleet should they ill-use me or refuse me justice; but upon this they did dismiss me hastily, and bade the interpreter see me duly lodged. I was taken then to a certain gallery, the priest and the secretary going with me, and there was brought thither my two trunks, and these the _alcaide_, as they call the chief turnkey, set himself to open and search, the secretary being at his side and noting down what was found therein. And while this was doing, the priest that had acted interpreter turned to me with a jolly laugh. “These men speak no English,” says he, “and I have many things to ask of ye that I’d fain know, so with your pleasure we’ll discourse awhile. May I ask whether ye would be son to Sir Harry Carlyon, that once led the king’s forces in the West Country?” “Seignior,” says I, greatly surprised, yet willing to be civil to this agreeable person, “Sir Harry Carlyon is my father.” “Well met, then!” said he, “though I’d be glad to have had it in a better place. Your good father did me a kindness once, and sure I’ll not forget it. I hope Sir Harry is in good health, sir?” “He was well when he writ to me last,” says I. “But pray, seignior, pardon my boldness in asking where you gat acquainted with my father. Was it in the wars of Germany?”