Ralph hastened to interpose. His mind revolted at this coarse bullying, in spite of his contempt at this patient tolerance on the part of the Abbot. “I shall do very well, my Lord Abbot,” he said. “I shall give no trouble. You may put me where you please.” The young prelate looked at him gratefully. “We will do our best, sir,” he said. “Will you come, gentlemen, and see your chambers?” Layton explained to Ralph as they went along the poor little cloister that he himself had only arrived an hour before. “I had a rare time among the monks,” he whispered, “and have some tales to make you laugh.” * * * * * He grew impatient again presently at the poor furnishing of the rooms, and kicked over a broken chair. “I will have something better than that,” he said. “Get me one from the church.” The young Abbot faced him. “What do you want of us, Dr. Layton? Is it riches or poverty? Which think you that Religious ought to have?” The priest gave a bark of laughter. “You have me there, my lord,” he said; and nudged Ralph. They sat down to supper presently in the parlour downstairs, a couple of dishes of meat, and a bottle of Spanish wine. Dr. Layton grew voluble. “I have a deal to tell you, Mr. Torridon,” he said, “and not a few things to show you,--silver crosses and such like; but those we will look at to-morrow. I doubt whether we shall add much to it here, though there is a relic-case that would look well on Master Cromwell’s table; it is all set with agates. But the tales you shall have now. My servant will be here directly with the papers.” A man came in presently with a bag of documents, and Layton seized them eagerly. “See here, Mr. Torridon,” he said, shaking the papers on to the table, “here is a story-box for the ladies. Draw your chair to the fire.” Ralph felt an increasing repugnance for the man; but he said nothing; and brought up his seat to the wide hearth on which the logs burned pleasantly in the cold little room. The priest lifted the bundle on to his lap, crossed his legs comfortably, with a glass of wine at his elbow, and began to read. * * * * * For a while Ralph wondered how the man could have the effrontery to call his notes by the name of evidence. They consisted of a string of obscene guesses, founded upon circumstances that were certainly compatible with guilt, but no less compatible with innocence. There was a quantity of gossip gathered from country-people and coloured by the most flagrant animus, and even so the witnesses did not agree. Such sentences as “It is reported in the country round that the prior is a lewd man” were frequent in the course of the reading, and were often the chief evidence offered in a case. In one of the most categorical stories, Ralph leaned forward and interrupted. “Forgive me, Master Layton,” he said, “but who is Master What’s-his-name who says all this?” The priest waved the paper in the air.