Part 37 (1/2)

Anthony in London, strangely enough, heard nothing of the arrest on the Sunday, except a rumour at supper that some Papists had been taken. It had sufficient effect on his mind to make him congratulate himself that he had been able to warn his friend last week.

At dinner on Monday there were a few guests; and among them, one Sir Richard Barkley, afterwards Lieutenant of the Tower. He sat at the Archbishop's table, but Anthony's place, on the steward's left hand, brought him very close to the end of the first table where Sir Richard sat. Dinner was half way through, when Mr. Scot who was talking to Anthony, was suddenly silent and lifted his hand as if to check the conversation a moment.

”I saw them myself,” said Sir Richard's voice just behind.

”What is it?” whispered Anthony.

”The Catholics,” answered the steward.

”They were taken in Newman's Court, off Cheapside,” went on the voice, ”nearly thirty, with one of their priests, at ma.s.s, in his trinkets too--Oldham his name is.”

There was a sudden crash of a chair fallen backwards, and Anthony was standing by the officer.

”I beg your pardon, Sir Richard Barkley,” he said;--and a dead silence fell in the hall.--”But is that the name of the priest that was taken yesterday?”

Sir Richard looked astonished at the apparent insolence of this young official.

”Yes, sir,” he said shortly.

”Then, then,----” began Anthony; but stopped; bowed low to the Archbishop and went straight out of the hall.

Mr. Scot was waiting for him in the hall when he returned late that night. Anthony's face was white and distracted; he came in and stood by the fire, and stared at him with a dazed air.

”You are to come to his Grace,” said the steward, looking at him in silence.

Anthony nodded without speaking, and turned away.

”Then you cannot tell me anything?” said Mr. Scot. The other shook his head impatiently, and walked towards the inner door.

The Archbishop was sincerely shocked at the sight of his young officer, as he came in and stood before the table, staring with bewildered eyes, with his dress splashed and disordered, and his hands still holding the whip and gloves. He made him sit down at once, and after Anthony had drunk a gla.s.s of wine, he made him tell his story and what he had done that day.

He had been to the Marshalsea; it was true Mr. Oldham was there, and had been examined. Mr. Young had conducted it.--The house at Newman's Court was guarded: the house behind Bow Church was barred and shut up, and the people seemed gone away.--He could not get a word through to Mr. Oldham, though he had tried heavy bribery.--And that was all.

Anthony spoke with the same dazed air, in short broken sentences; but became more himself as the wine and the fire warmed him; and by the time he had finished he had recovered himself enough to entreat the Archbishop to help him.

”It is useless,” said the old man. ”What can I do? I have no power.

And--and he is a popish priest! How can I interfere?”

”My lord,” cried Anthony desperately, flushed and entreating, ”all has been done through treachery. Do you not see it? I have been a brainless fool. That man behind Bow Church was a spy. For Christ's sake help us, my lord!”

Grindal looked into the lad's great bright eyes; sighed; and threw out his hands despairingly.

”It is useless; indeed it is useless, Mr. Norris. But I will tell you all that I can do. I will give you to-morrow a letter to Sir Francis Walsingham. I was with him abroad as you know, in the popish times of Mary: and he is still in some sort a friend of mine--but you must remember that he is a strong Protestant; and I do not suppose that he will help you. Now go to bed, dear lad; you are worn out.”

Anthony knelt for the old man's blessing, and left the room.

The interview next day was more formidable than he had expected. He was at the Secretary's house by ten o'clock, and waited below while the Archbishop's letter was taken up. The servant came back in a few minutes, and asked him to follow; and in an agony of anxiety, but with a clear head again this morning, and every faculty tense, he went upstairs after him, and was ushered into the room where Walsingham sat at a table.