But even in their most ruthless days, the dread ministers of English justice only used torture as a last resource, to wring guilty secrets from the criminal, when the welfare of the State appeared to sanction the cruelty--they never descended to the fearful refinements of the German dwellers on the Rhine in their robber castles, where fiendish ingenuity was displayed in pushing agony to its utmost limits without violating the sanctuary of life.[36] On the third day solitude and silence having failed of their effect, Cuthbert was brought down into this den. At the table sat the governor of Rougemont, in his chair of state, and by his side Sir John Redfyrne; a physician, clothed in a long dark cloak, a clerk with pen and parchment, ready to take down the answers of the prisoner, were the only other persons present, at least in sight, when the two gaolers brought down the unfortunate youth. “Thy name?” said the governor. “Cuthbert Trevannion.” “Hast thou always borne that name?” “No, only a few years.” “What other hast thou borne?” “Cuthbert, only.” “What then is thy real name?” “I know not.” “Who was thy father? What was he called?” “I was a foundling, and cannot tell.” “What is thy age?” “I was found an infant in the wood of Avalon, on the 28th day of December, in the year 1525.” Sir John started at this announcement, and looked earnestly at the speaker. “At whose charge wast thou brought up?” “That of the Abbot of Glastonbury.” Sir John and the governor looked at each other as if this information corresponded with their expectations. “Wast thou not sometimes called ‘Hodge?’” “After the yeoman who found me, and became my foster father.” “How didst thou pass under the care of Sir Walter Trevannion?--men of rank do not usually give the honour of their name to obscure striplings.” “I was commended to him by my benefactor, the late Abbot.” “Thou wert, then, particularly dear to that trait----, I would say Abbot?” said the governor, who throughout showed a desire to spare the prisoner’s feelings, and was evidently discharging a painful task from a sense of duty.[37] “I was dear to him,” said Cuthbert, “but so were all his children.” “But he trusted not all as he trusted thee?” “I am not a fair judge of that.” “He revealed his secrets to thee, I am told.” “He would hardly make a mere boy the depository of many secrets; I was hardly fourteen at his martyrdom.” The officials all looked at each other as the last word was pronounced, and the governor said mildly-- “‘Execution,’ thou would’st say, but we will not dispute the subject,--dost thou remember the day when thou didst gain a silver arrow at an archery contest?” “I gained more prizes than one.” “This was in the May of 1539, and Nicholas Grabber was thy competitor?” “Yes, I remember it.” “Well, in that same night the Abbot, as we are informed, gave thee the honour of a private interview?” “He often did.” “But on this occasion, had he not a special object?”