The man’s face twitched with emotion, and he passed his hand over his mouth once or twice before continuing. “I did not dare to go into the court for fear I should be known; but I stood outside in the crowd and watched them go in. There was a fellow riding with Norfolk--a false knave of a man whom we had all learnt to hate at Doncaster--for he was always jeering at us secretly and making mischief when he could. I saw him with the duke before, when we went into the Whitefriars for the pardon; and he stood there behind with the look of a devil on his face; and now here he was again--” “His name, sir?” put in Dom Adrian. “Torridon, father, Torridon! He was a--” There was a sharp movement in the room, so that the monk stopped and looked round him amazed. Chris felt the blood ebb from his heart and din in his ears, and he swayed a little as he leaned against the wall. He saw Dom Anthony lean forward and whisper to the stranger; and through the haze that was before his eyes saw the other look at him sharply, with a fallen jaw. Then the monk rose and made a little stiff inclination to Chris, deferential and courteous, but with a kind of determined dignity in it too. When Chris had recovered himself, the monk was deep in his story, but Ralph had fallen out of it. “You would not believe it,” he was saying, “but on the very jury that was to try Master Aske and Constable, there were empanelled their own blood-relations; and that by the express intention of Norfolk. John Aske was one of them, and some others who had to wives the sons of my Lord Darcy and Sir Robert Constable. You see how it would be. If the prisoners were found guilty, men would say that it must be so, for that their own kin had condemned them; and if they were to be acquitted, then these men themselves would be cast.” There again broke out a murmur from the listening faces, as the man paused. “Well, they were cast, as you know, for not taking the King to be the supreme head of the Church, and for endeavouring to force the King to hold a parliament that he willed not. And I was at York again when Master Aske was brought back from London to be hanged, and I saw it!” Again an uncontrollable emotion shook him; and he propped his face on his hand as he ended his tale. “There were many of his friends there in the crowd, and scarcely one dared to cry out, God save you, sir.... I dared not....” He gave one rending sob, and Chris felt his eyes prick with tears at the sight of so much sorrow. It was piteous to see a brave man thinking himself a coward. Dom Anthony leaned forward. “Thank you, father,” he said, though his voice was a little husky, “and thank God that he died well. You have touched all our hearts.” “I was a hound,” sobbed the man, “a hound, that I did not cry out to him and tell him that I loved him.” “No, no, father,” said the other tenderly, “you must not think so. You must serve God well now, and pray for his soul.”