The monk came forward a step. “It is true, my Lord,” he said. “I was a monk of Lewes myself.” “And you have conformed,” put in the Archbishop swiftly. “I am living at home peaceably,” said Chris; “it is true that my brother did all this, but--but my father wishes that it should not be used in his cause.” “If it is true,” said the Archbishop, “it is best to say it. We want nothing but the bare truth.” “But I cannot bear it,” cried the old man again. Chris came round behind the Archbishop to his father. “Will you leave it, father, to my Lord Archbishop? My Lord understands what we think.” Sir James looked at him, dazed and bewildered. “God help us! Do you think so, Chris?” “I think so, father. My Lord, you understand all?” The Archbishop bowed again slightly. “Then, my Lord, we will leave it all in your hands.” There was a tap at the door. The Archbishop rose. “That is our signal,” he said. “Come, gentlemen, his Grace will be ready immediately.” Mr. Herries sprang to the door and opened it, bowing as the Archbishop went through, followed by Sir James and Nicholas. He and Chris followed after. * * * * * There was a kind of dull recklessness in the monk’s heart as he went through. He knew that he was in more peril than any of the others, and yet he did not fear it. The faculty of fear had been blunted, not sharpened, by his experiences; and he passed on towards the King’s presence, almost without a tremor. The room was empty, except for a page by the further door, who opened it as the party advanced; and beyond was a wide lobby, with doors all round, and a staircase on the right as they came out. The Archbishop made a little motion to the others as he went up, gathering his skirts about him, and acknowledging with his disengaged hand the salute of the sentry that stood in the lobby. At the top of the stairs was a broad landing; then a corridor through which they passed, and on. They turned to the left, and as they went it was apparent that they were near the royal apartments. There were thick leather rugs lying here and there; along the walls stood magnificent pieces of furniture, inlaid tables with tall dragon-jars upon them, suits of Venetian armour elaborately worked in silver, and at the door of every room that opened on the corridor there was standing a sentry or a servant, who straightened themselves at the sight of the Archbishop. He carefully acknowledged each salutation, and nodded kindly once or twice. There was a heavy odour in the air, warm and fragrant, as of mingled stuffs and musk, which even the wide windows set open towards the garden on the right hand did not wholly obliterate.