HOUSE OF 
 TORMENT 
 
 GRANGER-GULL
 
 HOUSE OF TORMENT
 
 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 A Tale of the Remarkable Adventures of 
 MR. JOHN COMMENDONE 
 
 Gentleman to King Philip II of Spain at the English Court 
 
 By 
 
 C. RANGER-GULL 
 
 Author of "The Serf," etc. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 
 1911
 
 Published September, 1911 
 
 THE QUINN * BODEN CO. PBE89 
 RAMWAY, N. J.
 
 DEDICATION TO 
 DAVID WHITELAW 
 
 SOUVENIR OF A LONG FRIENDSHIP 
 
 My dear David, 
 
 Since I first met you, considerably more than a decade 
 ago, in a little studio high up in a great London building, 
 we have both seen much water flow under the bridges of 
 our lives. 
 
 We have all sorts of memories, have we not? 
 
 Late midnights and famishing morrows, in the gay hard 
 days when we were endeavouring to climb the ladder 
 of our Art; a succession of faces, a welter of experiences. 
 Some of us fell in the struggle; others failed and still 
 haunt the reprobate purlieus of Fleet Street and the 
 Strand! There was one who achieved a high and deli- 
 cate glory before he died " Tant va la cruche a I'eau qua 
 la fin elle se casse." 
 
 There is another who is slowly and surely finding his 
 way to a certainty of fame. 
 
 And the rest of us have done something, if not as 
 yet all we hoped to do. At any rate, the slopes of the 
 first hills lie beneath us. We are in good courage and 
 resolute for the mountains. 
 
 The mist eddies and is spiralled below in the valleys 
 from which we have come, but already we are among the 
 deep sweet billows of the mountain winds, and I think 
 it is because we have both found our "Princess Galvas" 
 that we have got this far upon the way. 
 
 We may never stand upon the summit and find that 
 tempest of fire we call the Sun full upon us. But the 
 pleasure of going on is ours still there will always be that. 
 Ever your friend, 
 
 C. RANGER-GULL.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 I IN THE QUEEN'S CLOSET ; THE FOUR 
 
 FACES i 
 
 II THE HOUSE OF SHAME ; THE LADDER OF 
 
 GLORY 36 
 
 III THE MEETING WITH JOHN HULL AT 
 
 CHELMSFORD 87 
 
 IV PART TAKEN IN AFFAIRS BY THE HALF 
 
 TESTOON in 
 
 V THE FINDING OF ELIZABETH . . . 144 
 
 VI A KING AND A VICTIM. Two GRIM 
 
 MEN ....... 169 
 
 VII HEY Ho! AND A RUMBELOW ! . . . 191 
 VIII "WHY, WHO BUT You, JOHNNIE!" . 226 
 
 IX " MlSERICORDIA ET JUSTITIA " . . . 242 
 
 X THE SILENT MEN IN BLACK . . . 274 
 
 XI IN THE Box 288 
 
 XII "TENDIMUS IN LATIUM " .... 311
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 IN THE QUEEN'S CLOSET; THE FOUR FACES 
 
 SIR HENRY COMMENDONE sat upon an oak box 
 clamped with bands of iron and watched his son 
 completing his morning toilette. 
 
 " And how like you this life of the Court, 
 John? " he said. 
 
 The young man smoothed out the feather of 
 his tall cone-shaped hat. " Truly, father," he 
 answered, " in respect of itself it seems a very 
 good life, but in respect that it is far from the 
 fields and home it is naught. But I like it very 
 well. And I think I am likely to rise high. I am 
 now attached to the King Consort, by the Queen's 
 pleasure. His Highness has spoken frequently 
 with me, and I have my commission duly written 
 out as caballerizo." 
 
 " I never could learn Spanish," the elder man 
 replied, wagging his head. " Father Chilches tried 
 to teach me often of an afternoon when you were 
 hawking. What does the word mean in essence? " 
 
 " Groom of the body, father equerry. It is 
 doubtless because I speak Spanish that it hath 
 been given me." 
 
 " Very like, Johnnie. But since the Queen, 
 God bless her, has come to the throne, and Eng-
 
 2 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 land is reconciled to Holy Church, thou wert 
 bound to get a post at Court. They could not 
 ignore our name. I wrote to the Bishop of 
 London myself, he placed my request before the 
 Queen's Grace, and hence thou art here and in 
 high favour." 
 
 The young man smiled. " Which I shall en- 
 deavour to keep," he answered. " And now I 
 must soon go to the Queen's lodging. I am in 
 attendance on King Philip." 
 
 " And I to horse with my men at noon and so 
 home to Kent. I am glad to have seen thee, 
 Johnnie, in thy new life, though I do not love 
 London and the Court. But tell me of the Queen's 
 husband. The neighbours will all want news of 
 him. It's little enough they like the Spanish match 
 in Kent. Give me a picture of him." 
 
 " I have been at Court a month," John Com- 
 mendone answered, " and I have learned more 
 than one good lesson. There is a Spanish saying 
 that runs this way, ' Palabras y plumas viento las 
 Heva' (Words and feathers are carried far by 
 the wind). I will tell you, father, but repeat 
 nothing again. Kent is not far away, and I have 
 ambition." 
 
 Sir Henry chuckled. " Prudent lad," he said; 
 " thou art born to be about a palace. I'll say 
 nothing." 
 
 ' Well then, here is your man, a pedant and a 
 fool, a stickler for little trifles, a very child for de- 
 tail. Her Grace the Queen and all the nobles speak
 
 IN THE QUEEN'S CLOSET 3 
 
 many languages. Every man is learned now. His 
 Highness speaks but Spanish, though he has a little 
 French. Never did I see a man with so small a 
 mind, and yet he thinks he can see deep down into 
 men's hearts and motives, and knows all private and 
 public affairs." 
 
 Sir John whistled. He plucked at one of the 
 roses of burnt silver embroidered upon the doublet 
 of green tissue he was wearing the gala dress 
 which he had put on for his visit to Court, a gar- 
 ment which was a good many years behind the 
 fashion, but thought most elegant by his brother 
 squires in Kent. 
 
 " So ! " he said, " then this match will prove 
 as bad for the country as all the neighbours are 
 saying. Still, he is a good Catholic, and that is 
 something." 
 
 John nodded carelessly. " More so," he replied, 
 " than is thought becoming to his rank and age by 
 many good Catholics about the Court. He is as 
 regular at mass, sermons, and vespers as a monk 
 hath a leash of friars to preach for his instruction, 
 and disputes in theology with others half the night 
 till Her Grace hath to send one of her gentlemen 
 to bid him come to bed." 
 
 " Early days for that," said the Kentish gentle- 
 man, " though, in faith, the Queen is thirty-eight 
 and- 
 
 John started. " Whist ! " he said. " I'm set- 
 ting you an evil example, sir. Long ears abound 
 in the Tower. I'll say no more."
 
 4 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 " I'm mum, Johnnie," Sir Henry replied. " I'll 
 break in upon thee no more. Get on with thy tale." 
 ; 'Tis a bargain then, sir, and repeat nothing I 
 tell you. I was saying about His Highness's re- 
 ligion. He consults Don Diego Deza, a Dominican 
 who is his confessor, most minutely as to all the 
 actions of life, inquiring most anxiously if this or 
 that were likely to burden his conscience. And 
 yet though Her Grace suspects nothing he is of a 
 very gross and licentious temper. He hath issued 
 forth at night into the city, disguised, and indulged 
 himself in the common haunts of vice. I much 
 fear me that he will command me to go with him 
 on some such expedition, for he begins to notice 
 me more than any others of the English gentlemen 
 in his company, and to talk with me in the Spanish 
 tongue. ..." 
 
 The elder man laughed tolerantly. 
 
 " Every man to his taste," he said; " and look 
 you, Johnnie, a prince is wedded for state reasons, 
 and not for love. The ox hath his bow, the faulcon 
 his bells, and as pigeon's bill man hath his desire 
 and would be nibbling! " 
 
 John Commendone drew himself up to his full 
 slim height and made a motion of disgust. 
 
 " 'Tis not my way," he said. " Bachelor, I hunt 
 no fardingales, nor would I do so wedded." 
 
 " God 'ild you, Johnnie. Hast ever taken a 
 clean and commendable view of life, and I love thee 
 for it. But have charity, get you charity as you 
 grow older. His Highness is narrow, you tell me;
 
 IN THE QUEEN'S CLOSET 5 
 
 be not so yourself. Thou art not a little pot and 
 soon hot, but I think thou wilt find a fire that will 
 thaw thee at Court. A young man must get experi- 
 ence. I would not have thee get through the streets 
 with a bragging look nor frequent the stews of 
 town. But young blood must have its May-day. 
 Whilst can, have thy May-day, Johnnie. Have 
 thy door shadowed with green birches, long fennel, 
 St. John's wort, orphine, and white lilies. Wilt not 
 be always young. But I babble; tell me more of 
 King Philip." 
 
 The tall youth had stood silent while his father 
 spoke, his grave, oval face set in courteous atten- 
 tion. It was a coarse age. Henry the Eighth was 
 not long dead, and the scandals of his court and 
 life influenced all private conduct. That Queen 
 Mary was rigid in her morals went for very little. 
 The Lady Elizabeth, still a young girl, was already 
 committing herself to a course of life which 
 despite the historians of the popular textbooks 
 made her court in after years as licentious as ever 
 her father's had been. Old Sir Henry spoke after 
 his kind, and few young men in 1555 were so 
 fastidious as John Commendone. 
 
 He welcomed the change in conversation. To 
 hear his father whom he dearly loved speak 
 thus, was most distasteful to him. 
 
 " His Highness is a glutton for work," the young 
 man went on. " I see him daily, and he is ever 
 busy with his pen. He hateth to converse upon 
 affairs of state, but will write a letter eighteen
 
 6 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 pages long when his correspondent is in the next 
 room, howbeit the subject is one which a man of 
 sense would settle in six words of the tongue. In- 
 deed, sir, he is truly of opinion that the world is 
 to move upon protocols and apostilles. Events 
 must not be born without a preparatory course of 
 his obstetrical pedantry ! Never will he learn that 
 the world will not rest on its axis while he writeth 
 directions of the way it is to turn." 
 
 Sir Henry shook himself like a dog. 
 
 " And the Queen mad for such a husband as 
 this! " he said. 
 
 " Aye, worships him as it were a saint in a niche. 
 A skilled lutanist with a touch on the strings re- 
 markable for its science, speaking many languages 
 with fluency and grace, Latin in especial, Her Grace 
 yet thinks His Highness a great statesman and of 
 a polished easy wit." 
 
 " How blind is love, Johnnie ! blinder still when 
 it cometh late. A cap out of fashion and ill-worn. 
 'Tis like one of your French withered pears. It 
 looks ill and eats dryly." 
 
 " I was in the Queen's closet two days gone, in 
 waiting on His Highness. A letter had come from 
 Paris, narrating how a member of the Spanish 
 envoy's suit to that court had been assassinated. 
 The letter ran that the manner in which he had been 
 killed was that a Jacobin monk had given him a 
 pistol-shot in the head ' la facon que Von dit qu'il 
 a ette tue, sa ette par un Jacobin qul luy a donne 
 d'un cou de pistolle dans la tayteJ His Highness
 
 IN THE QUEEN'S CLOSET 7 
 
 took up his pen and scrawled with it upon the 
 margin. He drew a line under one word ' pistolle ' ; 
 'this is perhaps some kind of knife,' quoth he; 
 4 and as for " tayte," it can be nothing else but 
 head, which is not tayte, but tete or teyte, as you 
 very well know.' And, father, the Queen was all 
 smiles and much pleased with this wonderful com- 
 mentary ! " 
 
 Sir Henry rose. 
 
 " I will hear no more," he said. " It is time I 
 went. You have given me much food for thought. 
 Fare thee well, Johnnie. Write me letters with thy 
 doings when thou canst. God bless thee." 
 
 The two men stood side by side, looking at each 
 other in silence, one hale and hearty still, but with 
 his life drawing to its close, the other in the first 
 flush of early manhood, entering upon a career 
 which promised a most brilliant future, with every 
 natural and material advantage, either his already, 
 or at hand. 
 
 They were like and yet unlike. 
 
 The father was big, burly, iron-grey of head 
 and beard, with hooked nose and firm though simple 
 eyes under thick, shaggy brows. 
 
 John was of his father's height, close on six 
 feet. He was slim, but with the leanness of per- 
 fect training and condition. Supple as an eel, with 
 a marked grace of carriage and bearing, he never- 
 theless suggested enormous physical strength. The 
 face was a pure oval with an olive tinge in the skin, 
 the nose hooked like his sire's, the lips curved into
 
 8 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 a bow, but with a singular graveness and strength 
 overlying and informing their delicacy. The eyes, 
 of a dark brown, were inscrutable. Steadfast in 
 regard, with a hint of cynicism and mockery in 
 them, they were at the same time instinct with alert- 
 ness and a certain watchfulness. He seemed, as 
 he stood in his little room in the old palace of the 
 Tower, a singularly handsome, clever, and capable 
 young man, but a man with reservations, with 
 secrets of character which no one could plumb or 
 divine. 
 
 He was the only son of Sir Henry Commendohe 
 and a Spanish lady of high birth who had come 
 to England in 1512 to take a position in the suite 
 of Catherine of Arragon, three years after her 
 marriage to Henry VIII. During the early part 
 of Henry's reign Sir Henry Commendone was much 
 at Windsor and a personal friend of the King. 
 Those were days of great brilliancy. The King was 
 young, courteous, and affable. His person was 
 handsome, he was continually engaged in martial 
 exercises and all forms of field sports. Sir Henry 
 was one of the band of gay youths who tilted and 
 hawked or hunted in the Great Park. He fell in 
 love with the beautiful young Juanita de Senabria, 
 married her with the consent and approbation of 
 the King and Queen, and immediately retired to his 
 manors in Kent. From that time forward he took 
 absolutely no part in politics or court affairs. He 
 lived the life of a country squire of his day in 
 serene health and happiness. His wife died when
 
 IN THE QUEEN'S CLOSET 9 
 
 John the only issue of the marriage was six years 
 old, and the boy was educated by Father Chilches, a 
 placid and easy-going Spanish priest, who acted as 
 domestic chaplain at Commendone. This man, 
 loving ease and quiet, was nevertheless a scholar 
 and a gentleman. He had been at the court of 
 Charles V, and was an ideal tutor for Johnnie. 
 His religion, though sincere, sat easily upon him. 
 The Divorce from Rome did not draw him from 
 his calm retreat, the oath enforcing the King's 
 supremacy had no terrors for him, and he died at a 
 good old age in 1548, during the protectorate of 
 Somerset. 
 
 From this man Johnnie had learnt to speak 
 Spanish, Italian, and French. Naturally quick and 
 intelligent, he had added something of his mother's 
 foreign grace and self-possession to the teachings 
 and worldly-wisdom of Don Chilches, while his 
 father had delighted to train him in all manly 
 exercises, than whom none was more fitted to do. 
 
 Sir Henry became rich as the years went on, but 
 lived always as a simple squire. Most of his land 
 was pasturage, then far more profitable than the 
 growing of corn. Tillage, with no knowledge of 
 the rotation of crops, no turnip industry to fatten 
 sheep, miserable appliances and entire ignorance of 
 manures, afforded no interest on capital. But the 
 export of wool and broadcloth was highly profit- 
 able, and Sir Henry's wool was paid for in good 
 double ryals by the manufacturers and merchants 
 of the great towns.
 
 io HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 John Commendone entered upon his career, 
 therefore, with plenty of money far more than 
 any one suspected a handsome person, thoroughly 
 accomplished in all that was necessary for a gentle- 
 man of that day. 
 
 In addition, his education was better than the 
 general, he was without vices, and, in the present 
 reign, the consistent Catholicity of his house recom- 
 mended him most strongly to the Queen and her 
 advisers. 
 
 " So God 'ild ye, Johnnie. Come not down the 
 stairs with me. Let us make farewell here and now. 
 I go to the Constable's to leave my duty, and then 
 to take a stirrup-cup with the Lieutenant. My 
 serving-men and horses are waiting at the south of 
 White Tower at Coal Harbour Gate. Farewell." 
 
 The old man put his arms in their out-moded 
 bravery round his son and kissed him on both 
 cheeks. He hugged like a bear, and his beard was 
 wiry and strong against the smooth cheeks of his 
 son. Then coughing a little, he almost imper- 
 ceptibly made the sign of the cross, and, turning, 
 clanked away, his sword ringing on the stone floor 
 and his spurs for he wore riding-boots of Span- 
 ish leather clicking in unison. 
 
 John was left alone. 
 
 He sat down upon the low wooden bed and gazed 
 at the chest where the knight had been sitting. 
 The little room, with its single window looking out 
 upon the back offices of the palace, seemed strangely
 
 IN THE QUEEN'S CLOSET n 
 
 empty, momentarily forlorn. Johnnie sighed. He 
 thought of the woods of Commendone, of the old 
 Tudor house with its masses of chimneys and deep- 
 mullioned windows of all that home-life so warm 
 and pleasant; dawn in the park with the deer crop- 
 ping wet, silver grass, the whistle of the wild duck 
 as they flew over the lake, the garden of rosemary, 
 St. John's wort, and French lavender, which had 
 been his mother's. 
 
 Then, stifling a sigh, he sprang to his feet, 
 buckled on his sword the fashionable " whiffle "- 
 shaped weapon with globular pommel and the 
 quillons of the guard ornamented in gold and 
 gave a glance at a little mirror hung upon the wall. 
 By no means vain, he had a very careful taste in 
 dress, and was already considered something of a 
 dandy by the young men of his set. 
 
 He wore a doublet of black satin, slashed with 
 cloth of silver; and black velvet trunks trussed and 
 tagged with the same. His short cloak was of cloth 
 of silver lined with blue velvet pounced with his 
 cypher, and it fell behind him from his left 
 shoulder. 
 
 He smoothed his small black moustache for he 
 wore no beard set his ruff of two pleats in order, 
 and stepped gaily out of his room into a long 
 panelled corridor, a very proper young man, taut, 
 trim, and point device. 
 
 There were doors on each side of the corridor, 
 some closed, some ajar. A couple of serving-men 
 were hastening along it with ewers of water and
 
 12 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 towels. There was a hum and stir down the whole 
 length of the place as the younger gentlemen of 
 the Court made their toilettes. 
 
 From one door a high sweet tenor voice shivered 
 out in song 
 
 " Filz de Venus, voz deux yeux desbendez 
 Et mes ecrits lisez et entendez ..." 
 
 " That's Mr. Ambrose Cholmondely," Johnnie 
 nodded to himself. " He has a sweet voice. He 
 sang in the sextette with Lady Bedingfield and 
 Lady Paget last night. A sweet voice, but a fool ! 
 Any girl or dame either for that matter can do 
 what she likes with him. He travels fastest who 
 travels alone. Master Ambrose will not go far, 
 pardieu, nor travel fast ! " 
 
 He came to the stair-head it was a narrow, 
 open stairway leading into a small hall, also 
 panelled. On the right of the hall was a wide, open 
 door, through which he turned and entered the 
 common-room of the gentlemen who were lodged 
 in this wing of the palace. 
 
 The place was very like the senior common-room 
 of one of the more ancient Oxford colleges, wain- 
 scoted in oak, and with large mullioned win- 
 dows on the side opposite to a high carved fire- 
 place. 
 
 A long table ran down the centre, capable of 
 seating thirty or forty people, and at one end was 
 a beaufet or side-board with an almost astonishing 
 array of silver plate, which reflected the sunlight
 
 IN THE QUEEN'S CLOSET 13 
 
 that was pouring into the big, pleasant room in a 
 thousand twinkling points of light. 
 
 It was an age of silver. The secretary to Fran- 
 cesco Capella, the Venetian Ambassador to London, 
 writes of the period: " There is no small innkeeper, 
 however poor and humble he may be, who does not 
 serve his table with silver dishes and drinking cups ; 
 and no one who has not in his house silver plate 
 to the amount of at least 100 sterling is considered 
 by the English to be a person of any consequence. 
 The most remarkable thing in London is the quan- 
 tity of wrought silver." 
 
 The gentlemen about the Queen and the King 
 Consort had their own private silver, which was 
 kept in this their common messroom, and was also 
 supplemented from the Household stores. 
 
 Johnnie sat down at the table and looked round. 
 At the moment, save for two serving-men and the 
 pantler, he was alone. Before him was the silver 
 plate and goblet he had brought from Com- 
 mendone, stamped with his crest and motto, 
 11 Sapere aude et tace." He was hungry, and his 
 eye fell upon a dish of perch in foyle, one of the 
 many good things upon the table. 
 
 The pantler hastened up. 
 
 ' The carpes of venison are very good this morn- 
 ing, sir," he said confidentially, while one serving- 
 man brought a great piece of manchet bread and 
 another filled Johnnie's flagon with ale. 
 
 " I'll try some," he answered, and fell to with a 
 good appetite.
 
 i 4 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 Various young men strolled in and stood about, 
 talking and jesting or whispering news of the 
 Court, calling each other by familiar nicknames, 
 singing and whistling, examining a new sword, 
 cursing the amount of their tailors' bills as young 
 men have done and will do from the dawn of 
 civilisation to the end. 
 
 John finished his breakfast, crossed himself for 
 grace, and, exchanging a remark or two here and 
 there, went out of the room and into the morning 
 sunshine which bathed the old palace of the Tower 
 in splendour. 
 
 How fresh the morning air was! how brilliant 
 the scene before him ! 
 
 To his right was the Coal Harbour Gate and 
 the huge White Tower. Two Royal standards 
 shook out in the breeze, the Leopards of England 
 and blazoned heraldry of Spain, with its tower of 
 gold upon red for Castile, the red and yellow bars 
 of Arragon, the red and white checkers of Bur- 
 gundy, and the spread-eagle sable of Sicily. 
 
 To the left was that vast range of halls and gal- 
 leries and gardens which was the old palace, now 
 utterly swept away for ever. The magnificent pile 
 of brick and timber known as the Queen's gallery, 
 which was the actual Royal lodging, was alive and 
 astir with movement. Halberdiers of the guard 
 were stationed at regular distances upon the low 
 stone terrace of the facade, groups of officers went 
 in and out of the doors, already some ladies were 
 walking in the privy garden among the parterres
 
 IN THE QUEEN'S CLOSET 15 
 
 of flowers, brilliant as a window of stained glass. 
 The gilding and painted blazonry on the great hall 
 built by Henry III glowed like huge jewels. 
 
 On the gravel sweep before the palace grooms 
 and men-at-arms were holding richly caparisoned 
 horses, and people were continually coming up 
 and riding away, their places to be filled by new 
 arrivals. 
 
 It is almost impossible, in our day, to do more 
 than faintly imagine a scene so splendid and so 
 debonair. The clear summer sky, its crushed 
 sapphire unveiled by smoke, the mass of roofs, flat, 
 turreted, embattled some with stacks of warm, 
 red chimneys splashed with the jade green of ivy 
 the cupulars and tall clock towers, the crocketed 
 pinnacles and fantastic timbered gables, made a 
 whole of extraordinary beauty. 
 
 Dozens of great gilt vanes rose up into the still, 
 bright air, the gold seeming as if it were cunningly 
 inlaid upon the curve of a blue bowl. 
 
 The pigeons cooed softly to each other, the jack- 
 daws wheeled and chuckled round the dizzy heights 
 of the White Tower, there was a sweet scent of 
 wood smoke and flowers borne upon the cool 
 breezes from the Thames. 
 
 The clocks beat out the hour of noon, there was 
 the boom of a gun and a white puff of smoke from 
 the Constable Tower, a gay fanfaronade of trum- 
 pets shivered out, piercingly sweet and triumphant, 
 a distant bell began to toll somewhere over by St. 
 John's Chapel.
 
 16 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 John Commendone entered the great central 
 door of the Queen's gallery. 
 
 He passed the guard of halberdiers that stood 
 at the foot of the great staircase, exchanging good 
 mornings with Mr. Champneys, who was in com- 
 mand, and went upwards to the gallery, which was 
 crowded with people. Officers of the Queen's 
 archers, dressed in scarlet and black velvet, with a 
 rose and imperial crown woven in gold upon their 
 doublets, chatted with permanent officials of the 
 household. There was a considerable sprinkling 
 of clergy, and at one end of the gallery, nearest to 
 the door of the Ante-room, was a little knot of Do- 
 minican monks, dark and somewhat saturnine fig- 
 ures, who whispered to each other in liquid Spanish. 
 John went straight to the Ante-room entrance, 
 which was screened by heavy curtains of tapestry. 
 He spoke a word to the officer guarding it with a 
 drawn sword, and was immediately admitted to a 
 long room hung with pictures and lit by large win- 
 dows all along one side of its length. 
 
 Here were more soldiers and several gentlemen 
 ushers with white wands in their hands. One of 
 them had a list of names upon a slip of parchment, 
 which he was checking with a pen. He looked up 
 as John came in. 
 
 " Give you good day, Mr. Commendone," he 
 said. " I have you here upon this paper. His 
 Highness is with the Queen in her closet, and you 
 are to be in waiting. Lord Paget has just had 
 audience, and the Bishop of London is to come."
 
 IN THE QUEEN'S CLOSET 17 
 
 He lowered his voice, speaking confidentially. 
 " Things are coming to a head," he said. " I 
 doubt me but that there will be some savage doings 
 anon. Now, Mr. Commendone, I wish you very 
 well. You are certainly marked out for high 
 preferment. Your cake is dough on both sides. 
 See you keep it. And, above all, give talking a 
 lullaby." 
 
 John nodded. He saw that the other knew 
 something. He waited to hear more. 
 
 " You have been observed, Mr. Commendone," 
 the other went on, his pointed grey beard rustling 
 on his ruff with a sound as of whispering leaves, 
 and hardly louder than the voice in which he 
 spoke. " You have had those watching you as to 
 your demeanours and deportments whom you did 
 not think. And you have been very well reported 
 of. The King likes you and Her Grace also. They 
 have spoken of you, and you are to be advanced. 
 And if, as I very well think, you will be made privy 
 to affairs of state and policy, pr'ythee remember 
 that I am always at your service, and love you very 
 well." 
 
 He took his watch from his doublet. " It is 
 time you were announced," he said, and turning, 
 opened a door opposite the tapestry-hung portal 
 through which Johnnie had entered. 
 
 " Mr. Commendone," he said, " His Highness's 
 gentleman." 
 
 An officer within called the name down a short 
 passage to a captain who stood in front of the
 
 1 8 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 door of the closet. There was a knock, a murmur 
 of voices, and John was beckoned to proceed. 
 
 He felt unusually excited, though at the same 
 time quite cool. Old Sir James Clinton at the door 
 had not spoken for nothing. Certainly his pros- 
 pects were bright. ... In another moment he 
 had entered the Queen's room and was kneeling 
 upon one knee as the door closed behind him. 
 
 The room was large and cheerful. It was 
 panelled throughout, and the wainscoting had been 
 painted a dull purple or liver-colour, with the 
 panel-beadings picked out in gold. The roof was 
 of stone, and waggon-headed with Welsh groins 
 that is to say, groins which cut into the main arch 
 below the apex. Two long Venice mirrors hung on 
 one wall, and over the fire-place was a crucifix of 
 ivory. 
 
 In the centre of the place was a large octagonal 
 table covered with papers, and a massive silver 
 ink-holder. 
 
 Seated at the table, very busy with a mass of 
 documents, was King Philip II of Spain. Don 
 Diego Deza, his confessor and private chaplain, 
 stood by the side of the King's chair. 
 
 Seated at another and smaller table in a window 
 embrasure Queen Mary was bending over a large 
 flat book. It was open at an illuminated page, 
 and the sunlight fell upon the gold and vermilion, 
 the rouge-de-fer and powder-blue, so that it 
 gleamed like a little parterre of jewels. 
 
 It was the second time that John Commendone
 
 IN THE QUEEN'S CLOSET 19 
 
 had been admitted to the Privy Closet. He had 
 been in waiting at supper, the Queen had spoken 
 to him once or twice; he was often in the King 
 Consort's lodging, and was already a favourite 
 among the members of the Spanish suite. But this 
 was quite different. He knew it at once. He 
 realised immediately that he was here present at 
 this " domestic interior," so to speak, for some im- 
 portant purpose. Had he known the expressive 
 idiom of our day, he would have said to himself, 
 " I have arrived! " 
 
 Philip looked up. His small, intensely serious 
 eyes gave a gleam of recognition. 
 
 " Buenos dias, sefior," he said. 
 
 John bowed very low. 
 
 Suddenly the room was filled with a harsh and 
 hoarse volume of sound, a great booming, resonant 
 voice, like the voice of a strong, rough man. 
 
 It came from the Queen. 
 
 " Mr. Commendone, come you here. His 
 Highness hath work to do. Art a lutanist, Lady 
 Paget tells me, then look at this new book of tab- 
 lature with the voice part very well writ and the 
 painting of the initial most skilfully done." 
 
 The young man advanced to the Queen. She 
 held out her left hand, a little shrivelled hand, for 
 him to kiss. He did so, and then, rising, bent 
 over the wonderfully illuminated music book. 
 
 The six horizontal lines of the lute notation, 
 each named after a corresponding note of the 
 instrument, were drawn in scarlet. The Arabic
 
 20 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 numerals which indicated the frets to be used in 
 producing the notes were black and orange, the 
 initial H was a wealth of flat heraldic colour. 
 
 " H Is golden locks time hath to filuer turnde" 
 
 the Queen read out in her great masculine voice, 
 a little subdued now, but still fierce and strong, 
 like the purring of a panther. " What think you of 
 my new book of songs, Mr. Commendone?" 
 
 " A beautiful book, Madam, and fit for Your 
 Grace's skill, who hath no rival with the lute." 
 
 'Tis kind of you to say so, Mr. Commendone, 
 but you over compliment me." 
 
 She bent her brows together, lost in serious 
 thought for a moment, and drummed with lean 
 fingers upon the table. 
 
 Suddenly she looked up and her face cleared. 
 
 " I can say truly," she continued, " that I am 
 a very skilled player. For a woman I can fairly 
 put myself in the first rank. But I have met 
 others surpassing me greatly." 
 
 She had thought it out with perfect fairness, 
 with an almost pedantic precision. Woman-like, 
 she was pleased with what the young courtier had 
 said, but she weighed truth in grains and scruples 
 tithe of mint and cummin, the very word and 
 article of bald fact; always her way. 
 
 " And here, Mr. Commendone," she continued, 
 " is my new virginal. It hath come from Firenze, 
 and was made by Nicolo Pedrini himself. My 
 Lord Mayor begged Our acceptance of it."
 
 IN THE QUEEN'S CLOSET 21 
 
 The virginal was a fine instrument spinet it 
 came to be called in Elizabeth's reign, from the 
 spines or crow-quills which were attached to the 
 " jacks " and plucked at the strings. 
 
 The case was made of cypress wood, inlaid with 
 whorls of thin silver and enamels of various 
 colours. 
 
 " We were pleased at the Lord Mayor's cour- 
 tesy," the Queen concluded, and the change in 
 pronoun showed John that the interview was over 
 in its personal sense, and that he had been very 
 highly honoured. 
 
 He bowed, with a murmur of assent, and drew 
 aside to the wall of the room, waiting easily there, 
 a fresh and gallant figure, for any further com- 
 mands. 
 
 Nor did it escape him that the Queen had given 
 him a look of prim, but quite marked approval 
 as an old maid may look upon a handsome and 
 well-mannered boy. 
 
 The Queen pressed down the levers of the spinet 
 once or twice, and the thin, sweet chords like the 
 ghost of a harp rang out into the room. 
 
 John watched her from the wall. 
 
 The divine right of monarchs was a doctrine 
 very firmly implanted in his mind by his upbring- 
 ing and the time in which he lived. The absolutism 
 of Henry VIII had had an extraordinary influence 
 on public thought. 
 
 To a man such as John Commendone the mon- 
 arch of England was rather more than human.
 
 22 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 At the same time his cool and clever brain was 
 busily at work, drinking in details, criticising, ap- 
 praising, wondering. 
 
 The Queen wore a robe of claret-coloured velvet, 
 fringed with gold thread and furred with pow- 
 dered ermine. Over her rather thin hair, already 
 turning very grey, she wore the simple caul of the 
 period, a head-dress which was half bonnet, half 
 skull-cap, made of cloth of tinsel set with pearls. 
 
 Small, lean, sickly, painfully near-sighted, yet 
 with an eye full of fierceness and fire your true 
 Tudor-tiger eye she was yet singularly feminine. 
 As she sat there, her face wrinkled by care and evil 
 passions even more than by time, touching the keys 
 of her spinet, picking up a piece of embroidery, and 
 frequently glancing at her husband with quick, 
 hungry looks of fretful and even suspicious affec- 
 tion, she was far more woman than queen. 
 
 The great booming voice which terrified strong 
 men, coming from this frail and sinister figure, was 
 silent now. There was pathos even in her attitude. 
 A submissive wife of Philip with her woman's 
 gear. 
 
 The King of Spain went on writing, coldly, 
 carefully, and with concentrated attention, and 
 John's eyes fell upon him also, his new master, the 
 most powerful man in the world of that day. King 
 of Spain, Naples, Sicily, Duke of Milan, Lord of 
 Tranche Comte and the Netherlands, Ruler of 
 Tunis and the Barbary coast, the Canaries, Cape 
 de Verd Islands, Philippines and Spice Islands, the
 
 IN THE QUEEN'S CLOSET 23 
 
 huge West Indian colonies, and the vast territories 
 of Mexico and Peru an almost unthinkable power 
 was in the hands of this man. 
 
 As it all came to him, Johnnie shuddered for a 
 moment. His nerves were tense, his imagination 
 at work, it seemed difficult to breathe the same air 
 as these two super-normal beings in the still, warm 
 chamber. 
 
 From outside came the snarling of trumpets, the 
 stir and noise of soldiery here, warm silence, the 
 scratching of a pen upon parchment, the echo of 
 a voice which rolled like a kettle-drum. . . . 
 
 Suddenly the King laid down his pen and rose to 
 his feet, a tall, lean, sombre-faced man in black 
 and gold. He spoke a few words to Father Diego 
 Deza and then went up to the Queen in the 
 window. 
 
 The monk went on arranging papers in orderly 
 bundles, and tying some of them with cords of 
 green silk, which he drew from a silver box. 
 
 John saw the Queen's face. It lit up and be- 
 came almost beautiful for a second as Philip ap- 
 proached. Then as husband and wife conversed 
 in low voices, the equerry saw yet another change 
 come over Mary's twitching and expressive counte- 
 nance. It hardened and froze, the thin lips tight- 
 ened to a line of dull pink, the eyes grew bitter 
 bright, the head nodded emphatically several times, 
 as if in agreement at something the King was 
 saying. 
 
 Then John felt some one touch his arm, and
 
 24 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 found that the Dominican had come to him noise- 
 lessly, and was smiling into his face with a flash 
 of white teeth and steady, watchful eyes. 
 
 He started violently and turned his head from 
 the Royal couple in some confusion. He felt as 
 though he had been detected in some breach of 
 manners, of espionage almost. 
 
 "Buenos dias, senor, como anda usted?" Don 
 Diego asked in a low voice. 
 
 ' Thank you, I am very well," Johnnie answered 
 in Spanish. 
 
 " Como esta su padre? " 
 
 " My father is very well also. He has just left 
 me to ride home to Kent," John replied, wonder- 
 ing how in the world this foreign priest knew of 
 the old knight's visit. 
 
 It was true, then, what Sir James Clinton had 
 said! He was being carefully watched. Even in 
 the Royal Closet his movements were known. 
 
 " A loyal gentleman and a good son of the 
 Church," said the priest, u we have excellent re- 
 ports of him, and of you also, senor," he concluded, 
 with another smile. 
 John bowed. 
 
 "Los negocios del politica affairs of state," the 
 chaplain whispered with a half-glance at the couple 
 in the window. ' There are great times coming for 
 England, senor. And if you prove yourself a loyal 
 servant and good Catholic, you are destined to go 
 far. His Most Catholic Majesty has need of an 
 English gentleman such as you in his suite, of good
 
 IN THE QUEEN'S CLOSET 25 
 
 birth, of the true religion, with Spanish blood in 
 his veins, and speaking Spanish." 
 
 Again the young man bowed. He knew very 
 well that these words were inspired. This suave 
 ecclesiastic was the power behind the throne. He 
 held the King's conscience, was his confessor, more 
 powerful than any great lord or Minister the 
 secret, unofficial director of world-wide policies. 
 
 His heart beat high within him. The prospects 
 opening before him were enough to dazzle the 
 oldest and most experienced courtier; he was upon 
 the threshold of such promotion and intimacies as 
 he, the son of a plain country gentleman, had never 
 dared to hope for. 
 
 It had grown very hot; he remarked upon it 
 to the priest, noticing, as he did so, that the room 
 was darker than before. 
 
 The air of the closet was heavy and oppressive, 
 and glancing at the windows, he saw that it was 
 no fancy of strained and excited nerves, but that 
 the sky over the river was darkening, and the 
 buildings upon London Bridge stood out with 
 singular sharpness. 
 
 " A storm of thunder," said Don Diego indif- 
 ferently, and then, with a gleam in his eyes, " and 
 such a storm shall presently break over England 
 that the air shall be cleared of heresy by the light- 
 nings of Holy Church ah! here cometh His 
 Grace of London ! " 
 
 The Captain of the Guard had suddenly beaten 
 upon the door. It was flung open, and Sir James
 
 26 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 Clinton, who had come down the passage from the 
 Ante-room, preceded the Bishop, and announced 
 him in a loud, sonorous voice. 
 
 Johnnie instinctively drew himself up to atten- 
 tion, the chaplain hastened forward, King Philip, 
 in the window, stood upright, and the Queen re- 
 mained seated. From the wall Johnnie saw all 
 that happened quite distinctly. The scene was 
 one which he never forgot. 
 
 There was the sudden stir and movement of his 
 lordship's entrance, the alteration and grouping of 
 the people in the closet, the challenge of the captain 
 at the door, the heralding voice of Sir James and 
 then, into the room, which was momentarily grow- 
 ing darker as the thunder clouds advanced on Lon- 
 don, Bishop Bonner came. 
 
 The man pressed into the room, swift, sudden, 
 assertive. In his scarlet chimere and white rochet, 
 with his bullet head and bristling beard, it was as 
 though a shell had fallen into the room. 
 
 A streak of livid light fell upon his face set, 
 determined, and alive with purpose and the man's 
 eyes, greenish brown and very bright, caught a 
 baleful fire from the waning gleam. 
 
 Then, with almost indecent haste, he brushed 
 past John Commendone and the eager Spanish 
 monk, and knelt before the Queen. 
 
 He kissed her hand, and the hand of the King 
 Consort also, with some murmured words which 
 Johnnie could not catch. Then he rose, and the 
 Queen, as she had done upon her arrival from
 
 IN THE QUEEN'S CLOSET 27 
 
 Winchester after her marriage, knelt for his 
 blessing. 
 
 Commendone and the chaplain knelt also; the 
 King of Spain bowed his head, as the rapid, breath- 
 less pattering Latin filled the place, and one out- 
 stretched hand two white fingers and one white 
 thumb quivered for a moment and sank in the 
 leaden light. 
 
 There was a new grouping of figures, some quick 
 talk, and then the Queen's great voice filled the 
 room. 
 
 " Mr. Commendone ! See that there are 
 lights!" 
 
 Johnnie stumbled out of the closet, now dark 
 as at late evening, strode down the passage, burst 
 into the Ante-room, and called out loudly, " Bring 
 candles, bring candles ! " 
 
 Even as he said it there was a terrible crash of 
 thunder high in the air above the Palace, and a 
 simultaneous flash of lightning, which lit up the 
 sombre Ante-room with a blinding and ghostly 
 radiance for the fraction of a second. 
 
 White faces immobile as pictures, tense forms 
 of all waiting there, and then the voice of Sir James 
 and the hurrying of feet as the servants rushed 
 away. . . . 
 
 It was soon done. While the thunder pealed and 
 stammered overhead, the amethyst lightning sheets 
 flickered and cracked, the white whips of the fork- 
 lightning cut into the black and purple gloom, a 
 little procession was made, and gentlemen ushers.
 
 28 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 followed Johnnie back to the Royal Closet, carry- 
 ing candles in their massive silver sconces, dozens 
 of twinkling orange points to illumine what was to 
 be done. 
 
 The door was closed. The King, Queen, and 
 the Bishop sat down at the central table upon which 
 all the lights were set. 
 
 Don Diego Deza stood behind Philip's chair. 
 
 The Queen turned to John. 
 
 " Stand at the door, Mr. Commendone," she 
 said, " and with your sword drawn. No one is 
 to come in. We are engaged upon affairs of 
 state." 
 
 Her voice was a second to the continuous mutter 
 of the thunder, low, fierce, and charged with 
 menace. Save for the candles, the room was now 
 quite dark. 
 
 A furious wind had risen and blew great gouts 
 of hot rain upon the window-panes with a rattle 
 as of distant artillery. 
 
 Johnnie drew his sword, held it point down- 
 wards, and stood erect, guarding the door. He 
 could feel the tapestry which covered it moving 
 behind him, bellying out and pressing gently upon 
 his back. 
 
 He could see the faces of the people at the table 
 very distinctly. 
 
 The King of Spain and his chaplain were in 
 profile to him. The Queen and the Bishop of 
 London he saw full-face. He had not met the 
 Bishop before, though he had heard much about
 
 IN THE QUEEN'S CLOSET 29 
 
 him, and it was on the prelate's countenance that 
 his glance of curiosity first fell. 
 
 Young as he was, Johnnie had already begun to 
 cultivate that cool scrutiny and estimation of char- 
 acter which was to stand him in such stead during 
 the years that were to come. He watched the face 
 of Edmund Bonner, or Boner, as the Bishop was 
 more generally called at that time, with intense 
 interest. Boner was to the Queen what the 
 Dominican Deza was to her husband. The two 
 priests ruled two monarchs. 
 
 In the yellow candle-light, an oasis of radiance 
 in the murk and gloom of the storm, the faces 
 of the people round the table hid nothing. The 
 Bishop was bullet-headed, had protruding eyes, a 
 bright colour, and his moustache and beard only 
 partially hid lips that were red and full. The lips 
 were red and full, there was a coarseness, and even 
 sensuality, about them, which was, nevertheless, 
 oddly at war with their determination and in- 
 flexibility. The young man, pure and fastidious 
 himself, immediately realised that Boner was not 
 vicious in the ordinary meaning of the word. One 
 hears a good deal about " thin, cruel lips " the 
 Queen had them, indeed but there are full and 
 blood-charged lips which are cruel too. And these 
 were the lips of the Bishop of London. 
 
 There was a huge force about the man. He 
 was plebeian, common, but strong. 
 
 Don Diego, Commendone himself, the Queen 
 and her husband, were all aristocrats in their
 
 3 o HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 different degree, bred from a line pedigree 
 people. 
 
 That was the bond between them. 
 
 The Bishop was outside all this, impatient, of 
 it, indeed; but even while the groom of the body 
 twirled his moustache with an almost mechanical 
 gesture of disgust and misliking, he felt the power 
 of the man. 
 
 And no historian has ever ventured to deny that. 
 The natural son of the hedge-priest, George Sav- 
 age himself a bastard walked life with a shield 
 of brutal power as his armour. The blood-stained 
 man from whom a few years after Queen Eliza- 
 beth turned away with a shudder of irrepressible 
 horror, was the man who had dared to browbeat 
 and bully Pope Clement VII himself. He took a 
 personal and undignified delight in the details of 
 physical and mental torture of his victims. In 
 1546 he had watched with his own eyes the con- 
 vulsions of Dame Anne Askew upon the rack. He 
 was sincere, inflexible, and remarkable for ob- 
 stinacy in everything except principle. As Ambas- 
 sador to Paris in Henry's reign he had smuggled 
 over printed sheets of Coverdale's and Grafton's 
 translation of the Bible in his baggage the 
 personal effects of an ambassador being then, as 
 now, immune from prying eyes. During the Pro- 
 tectorate he had lain in prison, and now the strenu- 
 ous opposer of papal claims in olden days was a 
 bishop in full communion with Rome. 
 
 . . . He was speaking now, in a loud and
 
 IN THE QUEEN'S CLOSET 31 
 
 vulgar voice, which even the presence of their 
 Majesties failed to soften or subdue. 
 
 " And this, so please Your Grace, is but a 
 sign and indication of the spirit abroad. There is 
 no surcease from it. We shall do well to gird us 
 up and scourge this heresy from England. This 
 letter was delivered by an unknown woman to my 
 chaplain, Father Holmes. 'Tis a sign of the times." 
 
 He unfolded a paper and began to read. 
 
 " I see that you are set all in a rage like a raven- 
 ing wolf against the poor lambs of Christ appointed 
 to the slaughter for the testimony of the truth. 
 Indeed, you are called the common cut-throat and 
 general slaughter-slave to all the bishops of Eng- 
 land; and therefore 'tis wisdom for me and all 
 other simple sheep of the Lord to keep us out of 
 your butcher's stall as long as we can. The very 
 papists themselves begin now to abhor your blood- 
 thirstiness, and speak shame of your tyranny. Like 
 tyranny, believe me, my lord, any child that can 
 any whit speak, can call you by your name and say, 
 ' Bloody Boner is Bishop of London'; and every 
 man hath it as perfectly upon his fingers'-ends as 
 his Paternoster, how many you, for your part, have 
 burned with fire and famished in prison; they say 
 the whole sum surmounteth to forty persons within 
 this three-quarters of this year. Therefore, my 
 lord, though your lordship believeth that there is 
 neither heaven nor hell nor God nor devil, yet if 
 your lordship love your own honesty, which was 
 lost long agone, you were best to surcease from this
 
 32 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 cruel burning of Christian men, and also from mur- 
 dering of some in prison, for that, indeed, of- 
 fendeth men's minds most. Therefore, say not but 
 a woman gave you warning, if you list to take it. 
 And as for the obtaining of your popish purpose 
 in suppressing the Truth, I put you out of doubt, 
 you shall not obtain it as long as you go to work 
 this way as ye do ; for verily I believe that you have 
 lost the hearts of twenty thousand that were rank 
 papists within this twelve months." 
 
 The Bishop put the letter down upon the table 
 and beat upon it with his clenched fist. His face 
 was alight with inquiry and anger. 
 
 Every one took it in a different fashion. 
 
 Philip crossed himself and said nothing, formal, 
 cold, and almost uninterested. Don Diego crossed 
 himself also. His face was stern, but his eyes 
 flitted hither and thither, sparkling in the light. 
 
 Then the Queen's great voice boomed out into 
 the place, drowning the thunder and the beating 
 rain upon the window-panes, pressing in gouts of 
 sound on the hot air of the closet. 
 
 Her face was bagged and pouched like a quilt. 
 All womanhood was wiped out of it lips white, 
 eyes like ice. . . . 
 
 " I'll stamp it out of this realm ! I'll burn it 
 out. Jesus ! but we will burn it out ! " 
 
 The Bishop's face was trembling with excite- 
 ment. He thrust a paper in front of the Queen. 
 
 " Madam," he said, " this is the warrant for 
 Doctor Rowland Taylor."
 
 IN THE QUEEN'S CLOSET 33 
 
 Mary caught up a pen and wrote her name at 
 the foot of the document in the neat separated let- 
 ters of one accustomed to write in Greek, below 
 the signature of the Chancellor Gardiner and the 
 Lords Montague and Wharton, judges of the 
 Legantine Court for the trial of heretics. 
 
 " I will make short with him," the Queen said, 
 " and of all blasphemers and heretics. There is 
 the paper, my lord, with my hand to it. A black 
 knave this, they tell me, and withal very stubborn 
 and lusty in blasphemy." 
 
 " A very black knave, Madam. I performed 
 the ceremony of degradation upon him yestereen, 
 and, by my troth, never did the walls of Newgate 
 chapel shelter such a rogue before. He would not 
 put on the vestments which I was to strip from 
 him, and was then, at my order, robed by another. 
 And when he was thoroughly furnished therewith, 
 he set his hands to his sides and cried, ' How say 
 you, my lord, am I not a goodly fool? How say 
 you, my masters, if I were in Chepe, should I not 
 have boys enough to laugh at these apish toys? ' 
 
 The Queen crossed herself. Her face blazed 
 with fury. "Dog!" she cried. "Perchance he 
 will sing another tune to-morrow morn. But what 
 more?" 
 
 " I took my crosier-staff to smite him on the 
 breast," the Bishop continued. " And upon that 
 Mr. Holmes, that is my chaplain, said, ' Strike 
 him not, my lord, for he will sure strike again.' 
 ' Yes, and by St. Peter will I,' quoth Doctor Tay-
 
 34 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 lor. ' The cause is Christ's, and I were no good 
 Christian if I would not fight in my Master's 
 quarrel.' So I laid my curse on him, and struck 
 him not." 
 
 The King's large, sombre face twisted into a 
 cold sneer. 
 
 " Perro labrador nunca buen mordedor a bark- 
 ing dog is never a good fighter," he said. " I 
 shall watch this clerk-convict to-morrow. Me- 
 thinks he will not be so lusty at his burning." 
 
 The Bishop looked up quickly with surprise in 
 his face. 
 
 " My lord," the Queen said to him, " His Maj- 
 esty, as is both just and right, desireth to see this 
 blasphemer's end, and will report to me on the 
 matter. Mr. Commendone, come here." 
 
 Johnnie advanced to the table. 
 
 " You will go to Sir John Shelton," the Queen 
 went on, " and learn from him all that hath been 
 arranged for the burning of this heretic. The King 
 will ride with the party and you in close attendance 
 upon His Majesty. Only you and Sir John will 
 know who the King is, and your life depends upon 
 his safety. I am weary of this business. My heart 
 grieves for Holy Church while these wolves are 
 not let from their wickedness. Go now, Mr. Com- 
 mendone, upon your errand, and report to Father 
 Deza this afternoon." 
 
 She held out her hand. John knelt on one knee 
 and kissed it. 
 
 As he left the closet the rain was still lashing
 
 IN THE QUEEN'S CLOSET 35 
 
 the window-panes, and the candles burnt yellow in 
 the gloom. 
 
 By a sudden flash of lightning he saw the four 
 faces looking down at the death warrant. There 
 was a slight smile on all of them, and the expres- 
 sions were very intent. 
 
 The great white crucifix upon the panelling 
 gleamed like a ghost.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE HOUSE OF SHAME; THE LADDER OF GLORY 
 
 IT was ten o'clock in the evening. The thunder- 
 storm of the morning had long since passed away. 
 The night was cool and still. There was no 
 moon, but the sky above London was powdered 
 with stars. 
 
 The Palace of the Tower was ablaze with lights. 
 The King and Queen had supped in state at eight, 
 and now a masque was in progress, held in the 
 glorious hall which Henry III painted with the 
 story of Antiochus. 
 
 The sweet music shivered out into the night as 
 John Commendone came into the garden among 
 the sleeping flowers. 
 
 " And the harp and the viol, the tabret and pipe, 
 and wine are in their feasts." Commendone had 
 never read the Bible, but the words of the Prophet 
 would have well expressed his mood had he but 
 known them. 
 
 For he was melancholy and ill at ease. The 
 exaltation of the morning had quite gone. Though 
 he was still pleasantly conscious that he was in a 
 fair way to great good fortune, some of the savour 
 was lost. He could not forget the lurid scene in 
 the Closet the four faces haunted him still. And 
 
 36
 
 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 37 
 
 he knew also that a strange and probably terrible 
 experience waited him during the next few 
 hours. 
 
 " God on the Cross," he said to himself, snap- 
 ping his fingers in perplexity and misease it was 
 the fashion at Court to use the great Tudor oaths 
 " I am come to touch with life real life at last. 
 And I am not sure that I like it. But 'tis too new 
 as yet. I must be as other men are, I suppose! " 
 
 As he walked alone in the night, and the cool 
 air played upon his face, he began to realise how 
 placid, how much upon the surface, his life had 
 always been until now. He had come to Court 
 perfectly equipped by nature, birth, and training 
 for the work of pageantry, a picturesque part in 
 the retinue of kings. He had fallen into his place 
 quite naturally. It all came easy to him. He had 
 no trace of the " young gentleman from the coun- 
 try " about him he might have started life as a 
 Court page. 
 
 But the real emotions of life, the under-currents, 
 the hates, loves, and strivings, had all been a closed 
 book. He recognised their existence, but never 
 thought they would or could affect him. He had 
 imagined that he would always be aloof, an inter- 
 ested spectator, untouched, untroubled. 
 
 And he knew to-night that all this had been but 
 a phantom of his brain. He was to be as other 
 men. Life had got hold on him at last, stern and 
 relentless. 
 
 " To-night," he thought, " I really begin to live.
 
 38 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 I am quickened to action. Some day, anon, I too 
 must make a great decision, one way or the other. 
 The scene is set, they are pulling the traverse from 
 before it, the play begins. 
 
 " I am a fair white page," he said to himself, 
 " on which nothing is writ, I have ever been that. 
 To-night comes Master Scrivener. ' I have a 
 mind to write upon thee,' he saith, and needs be 
 that I submit." 
 
 He sighed. 
 
 The music came to him, sweet and gracious. 
 The long orange-litten windows of the Palace spoke 
 of the splendours within. 
 
 But he thought of a man whose name he had 
 never heard until that morning lying in some 
 dark room, waiting for those who were to come 
 for him, the man whom he would watch burning 
 before the sun had set again. 
 
 It had been an evening of incomparable splen- 
 dour. 
 
 The King and Queen had been served with all 
 the panoply of state. The Duke of Norfolk, the 
 Earls of Arundel and Pembroke, Lord Paget and 
 Lord Rochester, had been in close attendance. 
 
 The Duke had held the ewer of water, Paget and 
 Rochester the bason and napkin. After the ablu- 
 tions the Bishop of London said grace. 
 
 The Queen blazed with jewels. The life of 
 seclusion she had led before her accession had by 
 no means dulled the love of splendour inherent in 
 her family. Even the French ambassador, well
 
 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 39 
 
 used to pomp and display, leaves his own aston- 
 ishment on record. 
 
 She wore raised cloth of gold, and round her 
 thin throat was a partlet or collar of emeralds. 
 Her stomacher was of diamonds, an almost bar- 
 baric display of twinkling fire, and over her gold 
 caul was a cap of black velvet sewn with pearls. 
 
 During the whole of supper it was remarked 
 that Her Grace was merry. The gay lords and 
 ladies who surrounded her and the King for all 
 alike, young maids and grey-haired dames of sixty 
 must blaze and sparkle too. nodded and whispered 
 to each other, wondering at this high good-humour. 
 
 When the Sewer advanced with his white wand, 
 heading the procession of yeomen-servers with the 
 gilt dishes of the second course he was a fat 
 pottle-bellied man the Queen turned to the Duke 
 of Norfolk. 
 
 " Dame! " she said in French, " here is a pranc- 
 ing pie! Ma mye! A capon of high grease! 
 Methinks this gentleman hath a very single eye 
 for the larder ! " 
 
 ' Yes, m'am," the Duke answered, " and so 
 would make a better feast for Polypheme than 
 e'er the lean Odysseus." 
 
 They went on with their play of words upon the 
 names of the dishes in the menu. . . . 
 
 " But say rather a porpoise in armour." 
 
 " Halibut engrailed, Madam, hath a face of pe- 
 culiar whiteness like the under belly of that fish I " 
 
 " A jowl of sturgeon I "
 
 40 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 " A Florentine of puff paste, m'am." 
 
 " Habet! " the Queen replied, " I can't better 
 that. Could you, Lady Paget? You are a great 
 jester." 
 
 Lady Paget, a stately white-haired dame, bowed 
 to the Duke and then to the Queen. 
 
 " His Grace is quick in the riposte," she said, 
 " and if Your Majesty gives him the palm qid 
 meruit ferat! But capon of high grease for my 
 liking." 
 
 " But you've said nothing, Lady Paget." 
 
 " My wit is like my body, m'am, grown old 
 and rheumy. The salad days of it are over. I 
 abdicate in favour of youth." 
 
 Again this adroit lady bowed. 
 
 The Queen flushed up, obviously pleased with 
 the compliment. She looked at the King to see if 
 he had heard or understood it. 
 
 The King had been talking to the Bishop of 
 London, partly in such Latin as he could muster, 
 which was not much, but principally with the aid 
 of Don Diego Deza, who stood behind His Maj- 
 esty's chair, and acted as interpreter the Domini- 
 can speaking English fluently. 
 
 During the whole of supper Philip had appeared 
 less morose than usual. There was a certain fire 
 of expectancy and complacence in his eye. He had 
 smiled several times; his manner to the Queen had 
 been more genial than it was wont to be a fact 
 which, in the opinion of everybody, duly accounted 
 for Her Grace's high spirits and merriment.
 
 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 41 
 
 He looked up now as Lady Paget spoke. 
 
 " Ensalada! " he said, having caught one word 
 of Lady Paget's speech salad. " Yes, give me 
 some salad. It is the one thing" he hastened 
 to correct himself " it is one of the things they 
 make better in England than in my country." 
 
 The Queen was in high glee. 
 
 " His Highness grows more fond of our English 
 food," she said ; and in a moment or two the Comp- 
 troller of the Household came up to the King's 
 chair, followed by a pensioner bearing a great 
 silver bowl of one of those wonderful salads of the 
 period, which no modern skill of the kitchen seems 
 able to produce to-day burridge, chicory, bugloss, 
 marigold leaves, rocket, and alexanders, all mixed 
 with eggs, cinnamon, oil, and ginger. 
 
 Johnnie, who was sitting at the Esquires' table, 
 with the Gentlemen of the Body and Privy Closet, 
 had watched the gay and stately scene till supper 
 was nearly over. 
 
 The lights, the music, the high air, the festivity, 
 had had no power to lighten the oppression which 
 he felt, and when at length the King and Queen 
 rose and withdrew to the great gallery where the 
 Masque was presently to begin, he had slipped 
 out alone into the garden. 
 
 " His golden locks time hath to silver turned." 
 
 The throbbing music of the old song, the harps' 
 thridding, the lutes shivering out their arpeggio 
 accompaniment, the viols singing together came
 
 42 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 to him with rare and plaintive sweetness, but they 
 brought but little balm or assuagement to his dark, 
 excited mood. 
 
 Ten o'clock beat out from the roof of the Palace. 
 Johnnie left the garden. He was to receive his 
 instruction as to his night's doing from Mr. Med- 
 ley, the Esquire of Sir John Shelton, in the Com- 
 mon Room of the Gentlemen of the Body. 
 
 He strode across the square in front of the 
 facade, and turned into the long panelled room 
 where he had breakfasted that morning. 
 
 It was quite empty now every one was at the 
 Masque but two silver lamps illuminated it, and 
 shone upon the dark walls of the glittering array of 
 plate upon the beaufet. 
 
 He had not waited there a minute, however, 
 leaning against the tall carved mantelpiece, a tall 
 and gallant figure in his rich evening dress, when 
 steps were heard coming through the hall, the 
 door swung open, and Mr. Medley entered. 
 
 He was a thick-set, bearded man of middle 
 height, more soldier than courtier, with the stamp 
 of the barrack-room and camp upon him; a brisk, 
 quick-spoken man, with compressed lips and an air 
 of swift service. 
 
 " Give you good evening, Mr. Commendone," 
 he said; " I am come with Sir John's orders." 
 
 Johnnie bowed. " At your service," he an- 
 swered. 
 
 The soldier looked round the room carefully 
 before speaking.
 
 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 43 
 
 " There is no one here, Mr. Medley," Johnnie 
 said. 
 
 The other nodded and came close up to the 
 young courtier. 
 
 ' The Masque hath been going this half-hour," 
 he said, in a low voice, " but His Highness hath 
 withdrawn. Her Grace is still with the dancers, 
 and in high good-humour. Now, I must tell you, 
 Mr. Commendone, that the Queen thinketh His 
 Highness in his own wing of the Palace, and with 
 Don Diego and Don de Castro, his two confessors. 
 She is willing that this should be so, and said 
 ' Good night ' to His Highness after supper, know- 
 ing that he will presently set out to the burning of 
 Dr. Taylor. She knoweth that the party sets out 
 for Hadley at two o'clock, and thinketh that His 
 Highness is spending the time before then in 
 prayer and a little sleep. I tell you this, Mr. Com- 
 mendone, in order that you go not back to the 
 Masque before that you set out from the Tower to 
 a certain house where His Highness will be with 
 Sir John Shelton. You will take your own servant 
 mounted and armed, and a man-at-arms also will 
 be at the door of your lodging here at ten minutes 
 of midnight. The word at the Coal Harbour Gate 
 is ' Christ.' With your two men you will at once 
 ride over London Bridge and so to Duck Lane, 
 scarce a furlong from the other side of the bridge. 
 Doubtless you know it " and here the man's eyes 
 flickered with a half smile for a moment " but if 
 not, the man-at-arms, one of Sir John's men, will
 
 44 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 show you the way. You will knock at the big house 
 with the red door, and be at once admitted. There 
 will be a light over the door. His Highness 
 will be there with Sir John, and that is all I have 
 to tell you. Afterwards you will know what to 
 do." 
 
 Johnnie bowed. " Give you good night," he 
 said. " I understand very well." 
 
 As soon as the Esquire had gone, Johnnie turned 
 out of the Common Room, ascended the stairs, 
 went to his own chamber and threw himself upon 
 the little bed. 
 
 He had imagined that something like this was 
 likely to occur. The King's habits were perfectly 
 well known to all those about him, and indeed 
 were whispered of in the Court at large, Queen 
 Mary, alone, apparently knowing nothing of the 
 truth as yet. The King's unusual bonhomie at 
 supper could hardly be accounted for, at least so 
 Johnnie thought, by the fact that he was to see his 
 own and the Queen's bigotry translated into dread- 
 ful reality. To the keen young student of faces the 
 King had seemed generally relieved, expectant, 
 with the air of a boy about to be released from 
 school. Now, the reason was plain enough. His 
 Highness had gone with Sir John Shelton to some 
 infamous house in a bad quarter of the city, and 
 it was there the Equerry was to meet him and ride 
 to the death scene. 
 
 Johnnie tossed impatiently upon his bed. He 
 remembered how on that very morning he had
 
 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 45 
 
 expressed his hopes to Sir Henry that his duties 
 would not lead him into dubious places. A lot 
 of water had run under the bridges since he kissed 
 his father farewell in the bright morning light. 
 His whole prospects were altered, and advanced. 
 For one thing, he had been present at an intimate 
 and private conference and had received marked 
 and special favour he shuddered now as he re- 
 membered the four intent faces round the table in 
 the Privy Closet, those sharp faces, with a cruel 
 smirk upon them, those still faces with the orange 
 light playing over them in the dark, tempest- 
 haunted room. 
 
 " I' faith," he said to himself, " thou art fairly 
 put to sea, Johnnie ! but I will not feed myself with 
 questioning. I am in the service of princes, and 
 must needs do as I am told. Who am I to be 
 squeamish? But hey-ho ! I would I were in the 
 park at Commendone to-night." 
 
 About eleven o'clock his servant came to him 
 and helped him to change his dress. He wore 
 long riding-boots of Spanish leather, a light corse- 
 let of tough steel, inlaid with arabesques of gold, 
 and a big quilted Spanish hat. Over all he fastened 
 a short riding-cloak of supple leather dyed purple. 
 He primed his pistols and gave them to a man to 
 be put into his holsters, and about a quarter before 
 midnight descended the stairs. 
 
 He found a man-at-arms with a short pike, al- 
 ready mounted, and his servant leading the other 
 two horses; he walked toward the Coal Harbour
 
 46 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 Gate, gave the word to the Lieutenant of the 
 Guard, and left the Tower. 
 
 A light moon was just beginning to rise and 
 throw fantastic shadows over Tower Hill. It was 
 bright enough to ride by, and Johnnie forbade his 
 man to light the horn lantern which was hanging 
 at the fellow's saddle-bow. 
 
 They went at a foot pace, the horses' feet echo- 
 ing with an empty, melancholy sound from the old 
 timbered houses back to the great bastion wall of 
 the Tower. 
 
 The man-at-arms led the way. When they came 
 to London Bridge, where a single lantern showed 
 the broad oak bar studded with nails, which ran 
 across the roadway, Johnnie noticed that upon the 
 other side of it were two halberdiers of the Tower 
 Guard in their uniforms of black and crimson, 
 talking to the keeper of the gate. 
 
 As they came up the bar swung open. 
 
 "Mr. Commendone?" said the keeper, an 
 elderly man in a leather jerkin. 
 
 Johnnie nodckd. 
 
 " Pass through, sir," the man replied, saluting, 
 as did also the two soldiers who were standing 
 there. 
 
 The little cavalcade went slowly over the bridge 
 between the tall houses on either side, which at 
 certain points almost met with their overhanging 
 eaves. The shutters were up all over the little 
 jewellers' shops. Here and there a lamp burned 
 from an upstairs window, and the swish and swirl
 
 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 4? 
 
 of the river below could be heard quite distinctly. 
 
 At the middle of the bridge, just by the well- 
 known armourer's shop of Guido Ponzio, the 
 Italian sword-smith, whose weapons were eagerly 
 purchased by members of the Court and the officers 
 both of the Tower and Whitehall, another hal- 
 berdier was standing, who again saluted Commen- 
 done as he rode by. 
 
 It was quite obvious to Johnnie that every pre- 
 caution had been taken so that the King's excur- 
 sion into les coulisses might be undisturbed. 
 
 The pike was swung open for them on the south 
 side of the bridge directly they drew near, and 
 putting their horses to the trot, they cantered over 
 a hundred yards of trodden grass round which 
 houses were standing in the form of a little square, 
 and in a few minutes more turned into Duck Lane. 
 
 At this hour of the night the narrow street of 
 heavily-timbered houses was quite dark and silent. 
 It seemed there was not a soul abroad, and this 
 surprised Johnnie, who had been led to under- 
 stand that at midnight " The Lane " was fre- 
 quently the scene of roistering activity. Now, how- 
 ever, the houses were all blind and dark, and the 
 three horsemen might have been moving down a 
 street in the city of the dead. 
 
 Only the big honey-coloured moon threw a prim- 
 rose light upon the topmost gables of the houses 
 on the left side of " The Lane " all the rest 
 being black velvet, sombreness and shadow. 
 
 John's mouth curved a little in disdain under his
 
 48 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 small dark moustache, as he noted all this and 
 realised exactly what it meant. 
 
 When a king set out for furtive pleasures, lesser 
 men of vice must get them to their kennels ! Lights 
 were out, all manifestation of evil was thickly cur- 
 tained. The shameless folk of that wicked quarter 
 of the town must have shame imposed upon them 
 for the night. 
 
 The King was taking his pleasure. 
 
 John Commendone, since his arrival in London, 
 and at the Court, had quietly refused to be a mem- 
 ber of any of those hot-blooded parties of young 
 men who sallied out from the Tower or from 
 Whitehall when the reputable world was sleeping. 
 It was not to his taste. He was perfectly capable 
 of tolerating vice in others looking on it, indeed, 
 as a natural manifestation of human nature and 
 event. But for himself he had preferred aloofness. 
 
 Nevertheless, from the descriptions of his 
 friends, he knew that Duck Lane to-night was 
 wearing an aspect which it very seldom wore, and 
 as he rode slowly down that blind and sinister 
 thoroughfare with his attendants, he realised with 
 a little cold shudder what it was to be a king. 
 
 He himself was the servant of a king, one of 
 those whom good fortune and opportunity had 
 promoted to be a minister to those almost super- 
 human beings who could do no wrong, and ruled 
 and swayed all other men by means of their Divine 
 Right. 
 
 This was a position he perfectly accepted, had
 
 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 49 
 
 accepted from the first. Already he was rising high 
 in the course of life he had started to pursue. 
 He had no thought of questioning the deeds of 
 princes. He knew that it was his duty, his metier, 
 in life to be a pawn in the great game. What 
 affected him now, however, as they came up to a 
 big house of free-stone and timber, where a lanthorn 
 of horn hung over a door painted a dull scarlet, 
 was a sense of the enormous and irrevocable power 
 of those who were set on high to rule. 
 
 No ! They were not human, they were not as 
 other men and women are. 
 
 He had been in the Queen's Closet that morn- 
 ing, and had seen the death warrant signed. The 
 great convulsion of nature, the furious thunders 
 of God, had only been, as it were, a mere accom- 
 paniment to the business of the four people in the 
 Queen's lodge. 
 
 A scratch of a pen a man to die. 
 
 And then, during the evening, he had seen, once 
 more, the King and Queen, bright, glittering and 
 radiant, surrounded by the highest and noblest of 
 England, serene, unapproachable, the centre of the 
 stupendous pageant of the hour. 
 
 And now, again, he was come to the stews, to 
 the vile quarter of London, and even here the secret 
 presence of a king closed all doors, and kept the 
 pandars and victims of evil silent in their dens like 
 crouching hares. 
 
 As they came up to the big, dark house, a little 
 breeze from the river swirled down the Lane, and
 
 50 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 fell fresh upon Johnnie's cheek. As it did so, he 
 knew that he was hot and fevered, that the riot of 
 thought within him had risen the temperature of 
 his blood. It was cool and grateful this little 
 clean breeze of the water, and he longed once more, 
 though only for a single second, that he was home 
 in the stately park of Commendone, and had never 
 heard the muffled throb of the great machine of 
 State, of polity, and the going hither and thither 
 of kings and queens. 
 
 But it only lasted for a moment. 
 
 He was disciplined, he was under orders. He 
 pulled himself together, banished all wild and 
 speculative thought sat up in the saddle, gripped 
 the sides of his cob with his knees, and set his left 
 arm akimbo. 
 
 ' This is the house, sir," said the trooper, 
 saluting. 
 
 ' Very well," Johnnie answered, as his servant 
 dismounted and took his horse by the bridle. 
 
 Johnnie leapt to the ground, pulled his sword- 
 belt into position, settled his hat upon his head, 
 and with his gloved fist beat upon the big red door 
 before him. 
 
 In ten seconds he heard a step on the other side 
 of the door. It swung open, and a tall, thin per- 
 son, wearing a scarlet robe and a mask of black 
 velvet over the upper part of the face, bowed low 
 before him, and with a gesture invited him to enter. 
 
 Johnnie turned round. 
 
 " You will stay here," he said to the men. " Be
 
 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 51 
 
 quite silent, and don't stray away a yard from the 
 door." 
 
 Then he followed the tall, thin figure, which 
 closed the door, and flitted down a short passage 
 in front of him with noiseless footsteps. 
 
 He knew at once that he was in Queer Street. 
 
 The nondescript figure in its fantastic robe and 
 mask struck a chill of disgust to his blood. 
 
 It was a fantastic age, and all aberrations all 
 deviations from the normal were constantly ac- 
 centuated by means of costumes and theatric effect. 
 
 The superficial observer of the manners of our 
 day is often apt to exclaim upon the decadence of 
 our time. One has heard perfectly sincere and 
 healthy Englishmen inveigh with anger upon the 
 literature of the moment, the softness and luxury 
 of life and art, the invasion of sturdy English ideals 
 by the corrupt influences of France. 
 
 " Give me the days of Good Queen Bess, the 
 hearty, healthy, strong Tudor life," is the sort of 
 exclamation by no means rare in our time. 
 
 . . . "Bluff King Hal! Drake, Raleigh, all 
 that rough, brave, and splendid time! Think of 
 Shakespeare, my boy ! " 
 
 Whether or no our own days are deficient in 
 hardihood and endurance is not a question to be 
 discussed here though the private records of Eng- 
 land's last war might very well provide a complete 
 answer to the query. It is certain, however, that in 
 an age when personal prowess with arms was still 
 a title to fortune, when every gentleman of position
 
 52 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 and birth knew and practised the use of weapons, 
 the under-currents of life, the hidden sides of social 
 affairs, were at least as " curious " and " decadent " 
 as anything Montmartre or the Quartier Latin 
 have to show. 
 
 It must be remembered that in the late Tudor 
 Age almost every one of good family, each gentle- 
 man about the Court, was not only a trained soldier, 
 but also a highly cultured person as well. The 
 Renaissance in Italy was in full swing and activity. 
 Its culture had crossed the Alps, its art was borne 
 upon the wings of its advance to our northern 
 shores. 
 
 Crossness was refined. . . . 
 
 Johnnie twirled his moustache as he followed the 
 nondescript sexless figure which flitted down the 
 dimly-lit panelled passage before him like some 
 creature from a masque. 
 
 At the end of the passage there was a door. 
 
 Arrived at it, a long, thin arm, in a sleeve of 
 close-fitting black silk, shot out from the red robe. 
 A thin ivory-coloured hand, with fingers of almost 
 preternatural length, rose to a painted scarlet slit 
 which was the creature's mouth. 
 
 The masked head dropped a little to one side, 
 one lean finger, shining like a fish-bone, tapped the 
 mouth significantly, the door opened, some heavy 
 curtains of Flanders tapestry were pushed aside, 
 and the Equerry walked into a place as strange and 
 sickly as he had ever met in some fantastic or dis- 
 ordered dream.
 
 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 53 
 
 Johnnie heard the door close softly behind him, 
 the " swish, swish " of the falling curtains. And 
 then he stood up, his eyes blinking a little in the 
 bright light which streamed upon them his hand 
 upon his sword-hilt and looked around to find 
 himself. He was in a smallish room, hung around 
 entirely with an arras of scarlet cloth, powdered 
 at regular intervals with a pattern of golden 
 bats. 
 
 The floor was covered with a heavy carpet of 
 Flanders pile a very rare and luxurious thing in 
 those days and the whole room was lit by its 
 silver lamps, which hung from the ceiling upon 
 chains. On one side, opposite the door, was a 
 great pile of cushions, going half-way up the wall 
 towards the ceiling cushions as of strange bar- 
 baric colours, violent colours that smote upon the 
 eye and seemed almost to do the brain a violence. 
 
 In the middle of the room, right in the centre, 
 was a low oak stool, upon which was a silver tray. 
 In the middle of the tray was a miniature chafing- 
 dish, beneath which some volatile amethyst-coloured 
 flame was burning, and from the dish itself a pas- 
 tille, smouldering and heated, sent up a thin, grey 
 whip of odorous smoke. 
 
 The whole air of this curious tented room was 
 heavy and languorous with perfume. Sickly, and 
 yet with a sensuous allurement, the place seemed 
 to reel round the young man, to disgust one side of 
 him, the real side; and yet, in some low, evil 
 fashion, to beckon to base things in his blood base
 
 54 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 thoughts, physical influences which he had never 
 known before, and which now seemed to suddenly 
 wake out of a long sleep, and to whisper in his 
 ears. 
 
 All this, this surveyal of the place in which he 
 found himself, took but a moment, and he had 
 hardly stood there for three seconds tall, upright, 
 and debonair, amid the wicked luxury of the room 
 when he heard a sound to his left, and, turning, 
 saw that he was not alone. 
 
 Behind a little table of Italian filigree work, 
 upon which were a pair of tiny velvet slippers, 
 embroidered with burnt silver, a sprunking-glass 
 or pocket mirror and a tall-stemmed bottle of 
 wine, sat a vast, pink, fleshy, elderly woman. 
 
 Her face, which was as big as a ham, was 
 painted white and scarlet. Her eyebrows were 
 pencilled with deep black, the heavy eyes shared 
 the vacuity of glass, with an evil and steadfast 
 glitter of welcome. 
 
 .There were great pouches underneath the eyes; 
 the nose was hawk-like, the chins pendulous, the 
 lips once, perhaps, well curved and beautiful 
 enough, now full, bloated, and red with horrid 
 invitation. 
 
 The woman was dressed with extreme richness. 
 
 Fat and powdered fingers were covered with 
 rings. Her corsage was jewelled she was like 
 some dreadful mummy of what youth had been, a 
 sullen caricature of a long-past youth, when she 
 also might have walked in the fields under God's
 
 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 55 
 
 sky, heard bird-music, and seen the dew upon the 
 bracken at dawn. 
 
 Johnnie stirred and blinked at this apparition 
 for a moment; then his natural courtesy and train- 
 ing came to him, and he bowed. 
 
 As he did so, the fat old woman threw out her 
 jewelled arms, leant back in her chair, stuttering 
 and choking with amusement. 
 
 "Tiensf" she said in French, "Monsieur qul 
 arrive! Why have you never been to see me be- 
 fore, my dear? " 
 
 Johnnie said nothing at all. His head was bent 
 a little forward. He was regarding this old 
 French procuress with grave attention. 
 
 He knew now at once who she was. He had 
 heard her name handed about the Court very 
 often Madame La Motte. 
 
 ' You are a little out of my way, Madame," 
 Johnnie answered. " I come not over Thames. 
 You see, I am but newly arrived at the Court." 
 
 He said it perfectly politely, but with a little 
 tiny, half-hidden sneer, which the woman was quick 
 to notice. 
 
 " Ah ! Monsieur," she said, " you are here on 
 duty. Merci, that I know very well. Those for 
 whom you have come will be down from above 
 stairs very soon, and then you can go about your 
 business. But you will take a glass of wine with 
 me?" 
 
 '' I shall be very glad, Madame," Johnnie an- 
 swered, as he watched the fat, trembling hand,
 
 5 6 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 with all its winking jewels, pouring Vin de Bur- 
 gogne into a glass. He raised it and bowed. 
 
 The old painted woman raised her glass also, 
 and lifted it to her lips, tossing the wine down with 
 a sudden smack of satisfaction. 
 
 Then, in that strange perfumed room, the two 
 oddly assorted people looked at each other 
 straightly for a moment. 
 
 Neither spoke. 
 
 At length Madame La Motte, of the great big 
 house with the red door, heaved herself out of her 
 arm-chair, and waddled round the table. She was 
 short and fat; she put one hand upon the shoulder 
 of the tall, clean young man in his riding suit and 
 light armour. 
 
 " Mon ami" she said thickly, " don't come here 
 again." 
 
 Johnnie looked down at the hideous old creature, 
 but with a singular feeling of pity and compassion. 
 
 " Madame," he said, " I don't propose to come 
 again." 
 
 " Thou art limn and debonair, and a very 
 pretty boy, but come not here, because in thy face 
 I see other things for thee. Lads of the Court come 
 to see me and my girls, proper lads too, but in 
 their faces there is not what I discern in thy face. 
 For them it matters nothing; for thee 'twould be 
 a stain for all thy life. Thou knowest well whom 
 I am, Monsieur, and canst guess well where I shall 
 go e'en though His Most Catholic Majesty be 
 above stairs, and will get absolution for all he is
 
 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 57 
 
 pleased to do here. But you thou wilt be a clean 
 boy. Is it not so? " 
 
 The fat hand trembled upon the young man's 
 arm, the hoarse, sodden voice was full of pleading. 
 
 " Ma mere," Johnnie answered her in her own 
 language, " have no fear for me. I thank you 
 but I did not understand ..." 
 
 " Boy," she cried, " thou canst not understand. 
 Many steps down hellwards have I gone, and in the 
 pit there is knowledge. I knew good as thou know- 
 est it. Evil now I know as, please God, thou wilt 
 never know it. .But, look you, from my very 
 knowledge of evil, I am given a tongue with which 
 to speak to thee. Keep virgin. Thou art virgin 
 now; my hand upon thy sword-arm tells me that. 
 Keep virgin until the day cometh and bringeth 
 thy lady and thy destined love to thee." 
 
 ' There were tears in the young man's eyes as he 
 looked down into the great pendulous painted face, 
 from which now the evil seemed to be wiped away 
 as a cloth wipes away a chalk mark upon a slate. 
 
 As the last ray of a setting sun sometimes touches 
 to a fugitive glory a last fugitive glory some 
 ugly, sordid building of a town, so here he saw 
 something maternal and sweet upon the face of this 
 old brothel-keeper, this woman who had amassed 
 a huge fortune in ministering to the pride of life, 
 the pomp, vanity, and lusts of Principalities and 
 Powers. 
 
 He turned half round, and took the woman's left 
 hand in his.
 
 5 8 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 " My mother," he said, with an infinitely win- 
 ning and yet very melancholy gaze, " my mother, 
 I think, indeed, that love will never come to me. I 
 am not made so. May the Mother of God shield 
 me from that which is not love, but natheless seem- 
 eth to have love's visage when one is hot in wine or 
 stirred to excitement. But thou, thou wert not 
 ever ..." 
 
 She broke in upon him quickly. 
 
 Her great red lips pouted out like a ripe plum. 
 The protruding fishy eyes positively lit up with dis- 
 dain of herself and of her life. 
 
 " Mon cher," she said, " Hola! I was a young 
 girl once in Lorraine. I had a brother I will 
 tell you little of that old time but I have blood." 
 
 " Yes," she continued, throwing back her head, 
 till the great rolls of flesh beneath her chin stretched 
 into tightness, " yes, I have blood. There was a 
 day when I was a child, when the poet Jean 
 D'Aquis wrote of us 
 
 ' ' Quand nous habitions tous ensemble 
 Sur nos collines d'autrefois, 
 Ou 1'eau court, ou le buisson tremble 
 Dans la maison qui louche aux bois.' 
 
 ... It was." Suddenly she left Johnnie stand- 
 ing in the middle of the room, and with extraordi- 
 nary agility for her weight and years, glided round 
 the little table, and sank once more into her seat. 
 The door at the other end of the room opened, 
 and a tall girl, with a white face and thin, wicked
 
 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 59 
 
 mouth, and a glorious coronal of red hair came 
 into the room. 
 
 " 'Tis finished," she said, to the mistress of the 
 house. " Sir John Shelton is far in drink. 
 
 He " she stopped suddenly, as she saw Johnnie, 
 
 gave him a keen, questioning glance, and then 
 looked once more towards the fat woman in the 
 chair. 
 
 Madame nodded. " This is His Highness's 
 gentleman," she said, " awaiting him. So it's fin- 
 ished?" 
 
 The girl nodded, beginning to survey Johnnie 
 with a cruel, wicked scrutiny, which made him flush 
 with mingled embarrassment and anger. 
 
 " His Highness is coming down, Mr. Esquire," 
 she said, pushing out a little red tip of tongue from 
 between her lips. " His Highness ..." 
 
 The old woman in the chair suddenly leapt up. 
 She ran at the tall, red-haired girl, caught her by 
 the throat, and beat her about the face with her 
 fat, jewelled hands, cursing her in strange French 
 oaths, clutching at her hair, shaking her, swinging 
 her about with a dreadful vulgar ferocity which 
 turned John's blood cold. 
 
 As he stood there he caught a glimpse, never 
 to be forgotten, of all that underlay this veneer of 
 midnight luxury. He saw vile passions at work, he 
 realised for the first time truly and completely 
 in what a hideous place he was. 
 
 The tall girl, sobbing and bleeding in the face, 
 disappeared behind the arras. The old woman
 
 60 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 turned to Johnnie. Her face was almost purple 
 with exertion, her eyes blazed, her hawk-like nose 
 seemed to twitch from side to side, she panted out 
 an apology: 
 
 " She dared, Monsieur, she dared, one of my 
 girls, one of my slaves ! Hist ! " 
 
 A loud voice was heard from above, feet tram- 
 pled upon stairs, through the open door which 
 led to the upper parts of the house of ill-fame came 
 Sir John Shelton, a big, gross, athletic man, ob- 
 viously far gone in wine. 
 
 He saw Johnnie. " Ah, Mr. Commendone," he 
 said thickly. " Here we are, and here are you ! 
 God's teeth ! I like well to see you. I myself am 
 well gone in wine, though I will sit my horse, as 
 thou wilt see." 
 
 He lurched up to Johnnie and whispered in the 
 young man's ear, with hot, wine-tainted breath. 
 
 " He's coming down," he whispered. " It's your 
 part to take charge of His Highness. He's " 
 
 Sir John stood upright, swaying a little from the 
 shoulders, as down the stairway, framed in the 
 lintel of the door, came King Philip of Spain. 
 
 The King was dressed very much as Johnnie 
 himself was dressed; his long, melancholy face was 
 a little flushed though not with wine. His eyes 
 were bright, his thin lips moved and worked. 
 
 Directly he saw Commendone his face lit up 
 with recognition. It seemed suddenly to change. 
 
 " Ah, you are here, Mr. Commendone," he said 
 in Spanish. " I am glad to see you. We have had
 
 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 61 
 
 our amusements, and now we go upon serious 
 business." 
 
 The alteration in the King's demeanour was 
 instant. Temperate, as all Spaniards were and are, 
 he was capable at a moment's notice of dismissing 
 what had passed, and changing from bon viveur 
 into a grave potentate in a flash. 
 
 He came up to Johnnie. " Now, Mr. Commen- 
 done," he said, in a quiet, decisive voice, " we will 
 get to horse and go upon our business. The senor 
 don here is gone in wine, but he will recover as we 
 ride to Hadley. You are in charge. Let's begone 
 from this house." 
 
 The King led the way out of the red room. 
 
 The old procuress bowed to the ground as he 
 went by, but he took no notice of her. 
 
 Johnnie followed the King, Sir John Shelton 
 came staggering after, and in a moment or two they 
 were out in the street, where was now gathered a 
 small company of horse, with serving-men holding 
 up torches to illumine the blackness of the night. 
 
 They mounted and rode away slowly out of 
 Duck Lane and across London Bridge, the noise 
 of their passing echoing between the tall, barred 
 houses. 
 
 Several soldiers rode first, and after them came 
 Sir John Shelton. Commendone rode at the King's 
 left hand, and he noticed that His Highness's 
 broad hat was pulled low over his face and a riding 
 cloak muffled the lower part of it. Behind them 
 came the other men-at-arms. As soon as they were
 
 62 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 clear of the bridge the walk changed into a trot, 
 and the cavalcade pushed toward Aldgate. Not 
 a soul was in the streets until they came to the 
 city gate itself, where there was the usual guard. 
 They passed through and came up to the " Wool- 
 sack," a large inn which was just outside the wall. 
 In the light of the torches Commendone could see 
 that the place was obviously one of considerable 
 importance, and had probably been a gentleman's 
 house in the past. 
 
 Large square windows divided into many lights 
 by mullions and transoms took up the whole of the 
 front. The roofs were ornamental, richly crocketed 
 and finialed, while there was a blazonry of painted 
 heraldry and coats of arms over and around the 
 large central porch. Large stacks of tall, slender 
 chimney-shafts, moulded and twisted, rose up into 
 the dark, and were ornamented over their whole 
 surface with diaper patterns and more armorial 
 bearings. The big central door of the " Woolsack " 
 stood open, and a ruddy light beamed out from the 
 hall and from the windows upon the ground-floor. 
 As they came up, and Sir John Shelton stumbled 
 from his horse, holding the King's stirrup for him 
 to dismount, Commendone saw that the space in 
 front of the inn, a wide square with a little trodden 
 green in the centre of it, held groups of dark figures 
 standing here and there. 
 
 Halberds rose up against the walls of the houses, 
 showing distinctly in the occasional light from a 
 cresset held by a man-at-arms.
 
 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 63 
 
 Sir John Shelton strode noisily into a big panelled 
 hall, the King and Commendone following him, 
 Johnnie realising that, of course, His Highness was 
 incognito. 
 
 The host of the inn, Putton, hurried forward, 
 and behind him was one of the Sheriffs of London, 
 who held some papers in his hand and greeted Sir 
 John Shelton with marked civility. 
 
 The knight pulled himself together, and shook 
 the Sheriff by the hand. 
 
 " Is everything prepared," he said, " Mr. 
 Sheriff?" 
 
 ' We are all quite ready, Sir John," the Sheriff 
 answered, looking with inquiring eyes at Commen- 
 done and the tall, muffled figure of the King. 
 
 " Two gentlemen of the Court who have been 
 deputed by Her Grace to see justice done," 
 Sir John said. " And now we will to the priso- 
 ner." 
 
 Putton stepped forward. " This way, gentle- 
 men," he said. " Dr. Taylor is with his guards in 
 the large room. He hath taken a little succory 
 pottage and a flagon of ale, and seemeth resigned 
 and ready to set out." 
 
 With that the host opened a door upon the right- 
 hand side of the hall and ushered the party into a 
 room which was used as the ordinary of the inn, a 
 lofty and spacious place lit with candles. 
 
 There was a high carved chimney-piece, over 
 which were the arms of the Vintners' Company, 
 sable and chevron cetu, three tuns argent, with the
 
 64 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 figure of Bacchus for a crest. A long table ran 
 down the centre of the place, and at one end of it, 
 seated in a large chair of oak, sat the late Arch- 
 deacon of Exeter. Three or four guards stood 
 round in silence. 
 
 Dr. Rowland Taylor was a huge man, over six 
 feet in height, and more than a little corpulent. 
 His face, which was very pale, was strongly cast, 
 his eyes, under shaggy white brows, bright and 
 humorous; the big, genial mouth, half-hidden by 
 the white moustache and beard, both kindly and 
 strong. He wore a dark gown and a flat velvet 
 cap upon his head, and he rose immediately as the 
 company entered. 
 
 ' We are come for you, Dr. Taylor," the Sheriff 
 said, " and you must immediately to horse." 
 
 The big man bowed, with quiet self-possession. 
 
 "Tis very well, Master Sheriff," he said; "I 
 have been waiting this half-hour agone." 
 
 " Bring him out," said Sir John Shelton, in a 
 loud, harsh voice. " Keep silence, Master Taylor, 
 or I will find a way to silence thee." 
 
 John Commendone shivered with disgust as the 
 leader of the party spoke. 
 
 Even as he did so he felt a hand upon his arm, 
 and the tall, muffled figure of the King stood close 
 behind him. 
 
 " Tell the knight, senor," the King said rapidly 
 in Spanish, " to use the gentleman with more 
 civility. He is to die, as is well fitting a heretic 
 should die, for God's glory and the safety of the
 
 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 65 
 
 realm. But he is of gentle birth. Tell Sir John 
 Shelton." 
 
 Commendone stepped up to Sir John. " Sir," 
 he said, in a voice which, try as he would, he could 
 not keep from being very disdainful and cold 
 " Sir, His Highness bids me to tell you to use Dr. 
 Taylor with civility, as becomes a man of his 
 birth." 
 
 The half-drunken captain glared at the cool 
 young courtier for a moment, but he said nothing, 
 and, turning on his heel, clanked out of the room 
 with a rattle of his sword and an aggressive, ruf- 
 fling manner. 
 
 Dr. Taylor, with guards on each side, the Sheriff 
 immediately preceding him, walked down the room 
 and out into the hall. 
 
 Commendone and the King came' last. 
 
 Johnnie was seized with a sudden revulsion of 
 feeling towards his master. This man, cruel and 
 bigoted as he was, the man whom he had seen with 
 fanaticism and the blood lust blazing in his eye, 
 the man whom he had seen calmly leaving a vile 
 house, was nevertheless a king and a gentleman. 
 The young man could hardly understand or realise 
 the extraordinary combination of qualities in the 
 austere figure by his side of the man who ruled half 
 the known world. Again, he felt that sense of awe, 
 almost of fear, in the presence of one so far re- 
 moved from ordinary men, so swift in his altera- 
 tions from coarseness to kingliness, from relentless 
 cruelty to cold, sombre decorum.
 
 66 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 Dr. Taylor was mounted upon a stout cob, 
 closely surrounded by guards, and with a harsh 
 word of command from Sir John, the party set 
 out. 
 
 The host of the " Woolsack " stood at his lighted 
 door, where there was a little group of serving- 
 men and halberdiers, sharply outlined against the 
 red-litten facade of the quaint old building, and 
 then, as they turned a corner, it all flashed away, 
 and they went forward quietly and steadily through 
 a street of tall gabled houses. 
 
 Directly the lights of the inn and the square in 
 front of it were left behind, they saw at once that 
 dawn was about to begin. The houses were grey 
 now, each moment more grey and ghostly, and 
 they were no longer sable and shapeless. The air, 
 too, had a slight stir and chill within it, and each 
 moment of their advance the ghostly light grew 
 stronger, more wan and spectral than ever the dark 
 had been. 
 
 Pursuant to his instructions, Commendone kept 
 close to the King, who rode silently with a drooping 
 head, as one lost in thought. In front of them 
 were the backs of the guards in their steel corselets, 
 and in the centre of the group was the massive 
 figure of the man who was riding to his death, a 
 huge, black outline, erect and dignified. 
 
 John rode with the rest as a man in a dream. 
 His mind and imagination were in a state in which 
 the moving figures around him, the cavalcade of 
 which he himself was a part, seemed but phantoms
 
 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 67 
 
 playing fantastic parts upon the stage of some un- 
 real theatre of dreams. 
 
 He heard once more the great man-like voice 
 of Queen Mary, but it seemed very far away, a 
 sinister thing, echoing from a time long past. 
 
 The music of the dance in the Palace tinkled 
 and vibrated through his sub-conscious brain, and 
 then once more he heard the voice of the evil old 
 woman of the red house, the voice of one in hell, 
 telling him to flee youthful lusts, telling him to wait 
 stainless until love should come to him. 
 
 Love ! He smiled unconsciously to himself. 
 Love ! why should the thoughts of love come 
 to a heart-whole man riding upon this sad errand 
 of death; through ghostly streets, stark and 
 grey? ... 
 
 He looked up dreamily and saw before him, 
 cutting into a sky which was now big and tremu- 
 lous with dawn, the tower of St. Botolph's Church, 
 a faint, misty purple. Far away in the east the 
 sky was faintly streaked with pink and orange, 
 the curtain of the dark was shaken by the birth- 
 pangs of the morning. The western sky over St. 
 Paul's was already aglow with a red, reflected light. 
 
 The transition was extraordinarily sudden. 
 Every instant the aspect of things changed; the 
 whole visible world was being re-created, second 
 by second, not gradually, but with a steady, press- 
 ing onrush, in which time seemed merged and for- 
 gotten, to be of no account at all, and a thing that 
 was not.
 
 68 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 Johnnie had seen the great copper-coloured moon 
 heave itself out of the sea just like that the world 
 turning to splendour before his eyes. 
 
 But it was dawn now, and in the miraculously 
 clear, inspiring light, the countless towers and pin- 
 nacles of the city rose with sharp outline into the 
 quiet sky. 
 
 The breeze from the river rustled and whispered 
 by them like the trailing skirts of unseen presences, 
 and as the cool air in all its purity came over the 
 silent town, the feverishness and sense of unreality 
 in the young man's mind were dissolved and blown 
 away. 
 
 How silent London was! the broad street 
 stretched out before them like a ribbon of silver- 
 grey, but the tower of St. Botolph's was already 
 solid stone, and no longer mystic purple. 
 
 And then, for some reason or other, John Com- 
 mendone's heart began to beat furiously. He 
 could not have said why or how. There seemed no 
 reason to account for it, but all his pulses were 
 stirred. A sense of expectancy, which was painful 
 in its intensity, and unlike anything he had ever 
 known before in his life, pervaded all his con- 
 sciousness. 
 
 He gripped his horse by the knees, his left hand 
 holding the leather reins, hung with little tassels 
 of vermilion silk, his right hand resting upon the 
 handle of his sword. 
 
 They came up to the porch of the church, and 
 suddenly the foremost men-at-arms halted, the
 
 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 69 
 
 slight backward movement of their horses sending 
 those who followed backward also. There was 
 a pawing of hooves, a rattle of accoutrements, a 
 sharp order from somewhere in front, and then 
 they were all sitting motionless. 
 
 The moment had arrived. John Commendone 
 saw what he had come to see. From that instant 
 his real life began. All that had gone before, as 
 he saw in after years, had been but a leading up 
 and preparation for this time. 
 
 Standing just outside the porch of the church 
 was a small group of figures, clustering together, 
 white faces, pitiful and forlorn. 
 
 Dr. Taylor's wife, suspecting that her husband 
 should that night be carried away, had watched 
 all night in St. Botolph's porch, having with her 
 her two children, and a man-servant of their 
 house. 
 
 The men-at-arms had opened out a little, re- 
 maining quite motionless on their horses. 
 
 Sir John Shelton, obviously mindful of Com- 
 mendone's warning at the " Woolsack," remained 
 silent also, his blotched face grey and scowling in 
 the dawn, though he said no word. 
 
 The King pulled his hat further over his eyes, 
 and Johnnie at his right could see perfectly all that 
 was happening. 
 
 He heard a voice, a girl's voice. 
 
 " Oh, my dear father! Mother! mother! here 
 is my father led away." 
 
 Almost every one who has lived from any depth
 
 70 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 of being, for whom the world is no grossly ma- 
 terial place, but a state which is constantly im- 
 pinged upon and mingles with the Unseen, must 
 be conscious that at one time or other of his life 
 sound has been, perhaps, the most predominant in- 
 fluence in it. 
 
 Now and again, at rare and memorable intervals, 
 the grossness of this tabernacle wherein the soul 
 is encased is pierced by sound. More than all 
 else, sound penetrates deep into the spiritual con- 
 sciousness, punctuates life, as it were, at rare mo- 
 ments of emotion, gathering up and crystallising a 
 thousand fancies and feelings which seem to have 
 no adequate cause among outward things. 
 
 Johnnie had heard the sound of his mother's 
 voice, as she lay dying a dry, whispering, husky 
 sound, never to be forgotten, as she said, " Johnnie, 
 promise mother to be good; promise me to be 
 good." He had heard the sweet sound of the death 
 mort winded by the huntsman in the park of Com- 
 mendone, as he had run down his first stag in the 
 voice of the girl who cried out with anguish in 
 the pure morning light, he heard for the third 
 or fourth time, a sound which would always be 
 part of his life. 
 
 " O, my dear father! Mother! mother! here is 
 my father led away." 
 
 She was a tall girl, in a long grey cloak. 
 
 Her hair, growing low upon her forehead, and 
 very thick, was the colour of ripe corn. Great 
 eyes of a deep blue, like cut sapphire, shone in
 
 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 71 
 
 the dead white oval of her face. The parted lips 
 were a scarlet eloquence of agony. 
 
 By her side was a tall, grey-haired dame, trem- 
 bling exceedingly. 
 
 One delicate white hand flickered before the 
 elder woman's eyes, all blind with tears and 
 anguish. 
 
 Then the Doctor's wife cried, " Rowland, Row- 
 land, where art thou?" 
 
 Dr. Taylor answered, " Dear wife, I am here." 
 
 Then she came to him, and he took a younger 
 girl, who had been clinging to her mother's skirts, 
 his little daughter Mary, in his arms, dismounting 
 from his horse as he did so, with none to stay 
 him. He, his wife, and the tall girl Elizabeth, 
 knelt down and said the Lord's Prayer. 
 
 At the sight of it the Sheriff wept apace, and 
 so did divers others of the company, and the salt 
 tears ran down Johnnie's cheeks and splashed upon 
 his breast-plate. 
 
 After they had prayed Dr. Taylor rose up and 
 kissed his wife, and shook her by the hand, and 
 said : " Farewell, my dear wife, be of good comfort, 
 for I am quiet in my conscience. God shall stir 
 up a father for my children." 
 
 After that he kissed his daughter Mary and 
 said, " God bless thee and make thee His servant," 
 and kissing Elizabeth also he said, " God bless 
 thee. I pray you all stand strong and steadfast 
 unto Christ His Word, and keep you from 
 idolatry."
 
 72 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 The tall lady clung to him, weeping bitterly. 
 "God be with thee, dear Rowland," she said; 
 " I shall, with God's grace, meet thee anon in 
 heaven." 
 
 Then Johnnie saw the serving-man, a broad, 
 thick-set fellow, with a keen, brown face, who had 
 been standing a little apart, come up to Dr. Taylor. 
 He was holding by the hand a little boy of ten 
 years or so, with wide, astonished eyes, Thomas, the 
 Doctor's son. 
 
 When Dr. Taylor saw them he called them, say- 
 ing, " Come hither, my son Thomas." 
 
 John Hull lifted the child, and sat him upon 
 the saddle of the horse by which his father stood, 
 and I)r. Taylor put off his hat, and said to the 
 members of the party that stood there looking at 
 him : " Good people, this is mine own son, begotten 
 of my body in lawful matrimony; and God be 
 blessed for lawful matrimony." 
 
 Johnnie upon his horse was shaking uncon- 
 trollably, but at these last words he heard an impa- 
 tient jingle of accoutrements by his side, and 
 looking, saw that the face of His Highness was 
 fierce and angry that an ordained priest should 
 speak thus of wedlock. 
 
 But this was only for a passing moment; the 
 young man's eyes were fixed upon the great clergy- 
 man again in an instant. 
 
 The priest lifted up his eyes towards heaven, and 
 prayed for his son. He laid his hand upon the 
 child's head and blessed him; and so delivered the
 
 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 73 
 
 child to John Hull, whom he took by the hand and 
 said, " Farewell, John Hull, the faithfullest serv- 
 ant that ever man had." 
 
 There was a silence, broken only by the sobbing 
 of women and a low murmur of sympathy from the 
 rough men-at-arms. 
 
 Sir John Shelton heard it and glanced quickly 
 at the muffled figure of the King. 
 
 It was a shrewd, penetrating look, and well 
 understood by His Highness. This natural emo- 
 tion of the escort, at such a sad and painful scene, 
 might well prove a leaven which would work in 
 untutored minds. There must be no more sym- 
 pathy for heretics. Sir John gave a harsh order, 
 the guard closed in upon Dr. Taylor, there was a 
 loud cry from the Archdeacon's wife as she fell 
 fainting into the arms of the sturdy servant, and 
 the cavalcade proceeded at a smart pace. John 
 looked round once, and this is what he saw the 
 tall figure of Elizabeth Taylor, fixed and rigid, 
 the lovely face set in a stare of horror and unspeak- 
 able grief, a star of sorrow as the dawn reddened 
 and day began. 
 
 And now, as they left London, the progress was 
 more rapid, the stern business upon which they 
 were engaged looming up and becoming more im- 
 minent every moment, the big man in the centre of 
 the troop being hurried relentlessly to his end. 
 
 And so they rode forth to Brentwood, where, 
 during a short stay, Sir John Shelton and his men 
 caused to be made for Dr. Taylor a close hood,
 
 74 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 with two holes for his eyes to look out at, and a 
 slit for his mouth to breathe at. This they did that 
 no man in the pleasant country ways, the villages 
 or little towns, should speak to him, nor he to any 
 man. 
 
 It was a practice that they had used with others, 
 and very wise and politic. 
 
 " For," says a chronicler of the time, " their 
 own consciences told them that they led innocent 
 lambs to the slaughter. Wherefore they feared 
 lest if the people should have heard them speak 
 or have seen them, they might have been more 
 strengthened by their godly exhortations to stand 
 steadfast in God's Word, to fly the superstitions 
 and idolatries of the Papacy." 
 
 All the way Dr. Taylor was joyful and merry, 
 as one that accounted himself going to a most 
 pleasant banquet or bridal. He said many notable 
 things to the Sheriff and the yeomen of the guard 
 that conducted him, and often moved them to weep 
 through his much earnest calling upon them to re- 
 pent and to amend their evil and wicked living. 
 Oftentimes, also, he caused them to wonder and 
 rejoice, to see him so constant and steadfast, void 
 of all fear, joyful in heart, and glad to die. At 
 one time during their progress he said: " I will tell 
 you, I have been deceived, and, as I think, I shall 
 deceive a great many. I am, as you see, a man that 
 hath a very great carcase, which I thought would 
 have been buried in Hadley churchyard, if I died 
 in my bed, as I well hoped I should have done; but
 
 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 75 
 
 herein I see I was deceived. And there are a 
 great number of worms in Hadley churchyard, 
 which should have had a jolly feed upon this car- 
 rion, which they have looked for many a day. But 
 now I know we are to be deceived, both I and they; 
 for this carcase must be burnt to ashes; and so shall 
 they lose their bait and feeding, that they looked to 
 have had of it." 
 
 Sir John Shelton, who was riding by the side 
 of Commendone, and who was now sober enough, 
 the wine of his midnight revels having died from 
 him, turned to Johnnie with a significant grin as 
 he heard Dr. Taylor say this to his guards. 
 
 Shelton was coarse, overbearing, and a black- 
 guard, but he had a keen mind of a sort, and was 
 of gentle birth. 
 
 " Listen to this curtail dog, Mr. Commendone," 
 he said, with a sneer. " A great loss to the Church, 
 i' faith. He talketh like some bully-rook or clown 
 of the streets. And these are the men who in their 
 contumacy and their daring deny the truth of Holy 
 Church " He spat upon the ground with dis- 
 gust. 
 
 Commendone nodded gravely. His insight was 
 keener far than the other's. He saw, in what 
 Bishop Heber afterwards called " the coarse 
 vigour " of the Archdeacon's pleasantry, no fool- 
 ish irreverence indeed, but the racy English courage 
 and humour of a saintly man, resolved to meet his 
 earthly doom brightly, and to be an example to 
 common men.
 
 76 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 Johnnie was the son of a bluff Kentish squire. 
 He knew the English soil, and all the stoic hardy 
 virtues, the racy mannerisms which spring from 
 it. Courtier and scholar, a man of exquisite refine- 
 ment, imbued with no small share of foreign grace 
 and courtliness, there was yet a side of him which 
 was thoroughly English. He saw deeper than the 
 coarse-mouthed captain at his side. 
 
 The voices of those who had gathered round 
 the porch of St. Botolph's without Aldgate still 
 rang in his ears. 
 
 The Sheriff and his company, when they heard 
 Dr. Rowland Taylor jesting in this way, were 
 amazed, and looked one at another, marvelling at 
 the man's constant mind, that thus, without any 
 fear, made but a jest at the cruel torment and death 
 now at hand prepared for him. 
 
 The sun clomb the sky, the woods were green, 
 the birds were all at matins. Through many a 
 shady village they passed where the ripening corn 
 rustled in the breeze, the wood smoke went up in 
 blue lines from cottage and manor house, the clink 
 of the forge rang out into the street as the black- 
 smiths lit their fires, the milkmaids strode out to 
 find the lowing kine in the pastures. It was a 
 brilliant happy morning as they rode along through 
 the green lanes, a very bridal morning indeed. 
 
 When they were come within two miles of Had- 
 ley, Dr. Taylor desired for a while to light off his 
 horse. They let him do it, and the Sheriff at his 
 request ordered the hood to be removed from him.
 
 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 77 
 
 The whole troop halted for a minute or two, 
 and the Doctor, says the chronicler, " leaped and 
 set a frisk or twain as men commonly do in danc- 
 ing. 'Why, Master Doctor,' quoth the Sheriff, 
 ' how do you now ? ' He answered, ' Well, God be 
 praised, good Master Sheriff, never better; for now 
 I know I am almost at home. I have not pass two 
 stiles to go over, and I am even at my father's 
 house.' 
 
 " ' But, Master Sheriff,' said he, ' shall we not 
 go through Hadley?' 
 
 " ' Yes,' said the Sheriff, ' you shall go through 
 Hadley.' 
 
 " ' Then,' said he, ' O good Lord ! I thank Thee, 
 I shall yet once more ere I die see. my flock, whom 
 Thou, Lord, knowest I have most heartily loved 
 and truly taught. Good Lord ! bless them and keep 
 them steadfast in Thy word and truth.' ' 
 
 The streets of Hadley were beset on both sides 
 of the way with women and men of the town and 
 the country-side around, who awaited to see Dr. 
 Taylor. 
 
 As the troop passed by, now at walking pace, 
 when the people beheld their old friend led to 
 death in this way, their voices were raised in lamen- 
 tation and there was great weeping. 
 
 On all sides John Commendone heard the broad 
 homely Suffolk voices, lifted high in sorrow. 
 
 " Ah, good Lord," said one fat farmer's wife 
 to her man, " there goeth our good shepherd from 
 us that so faithfully hath taught us, so fatherly
 
 78 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 hath cared for us, so godly hath governed 
 us." 
 
 And again, the landlord of the " Three Cranes " 
 at Hadley, where the troop stopped for a moment 
 to water their horses at the trough before the inn, 
 and the country people surged and crowded round : 
 " O merciful God; what shall we poor scattered 
 lambs do? What shall come of this most wicked 
 world! Good Lord! strengthen him and comfort 
 him. Alack, dear Doctor, may the Lord help 
 thee ! " 
 
 The great man upon his horse, towering above 
 the yeomen of the guard who surrounded him, 
 lifted his hand. 
 
 " Friends," he said, " and neighbours all, grieve 
 not for me. I have preached to you God's word and 
 truth, and am come this day to seal it with my 
 blood." 
 
 Johnnie would have thought that the people who 
 bore such an obvious love for their rector, and who 
 now numbered several hundreds sturdy country- 
 men all would have raised an outcry against the 
 Sheriff and his officers. Many of them had stout 
 cudgels in their hands, some of them bore forks 
 with which they were going to the fields, but there 
 was very little anger. The people were cowed, 
 that was very plain to see. The power of the law 
 struck fear into them still; the long, unquestioned 
 despotism of Henry VIII still exercised its sway 
 over simple minds. Now and again, as the horses 
 were being watered, a fierce snarl of anger came 
 I
 
 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 79 
 
 from the outskirts of the crowd. Commendone 
 himself, with his somewhat foreign appearance, and 
 the tall, muffled figure of the King, excited mur- 
 murs and insults. 
 
 u They be Spaniards," one fellow cried, " they 
 two be Spaniards from the Queen's Papist 
 husband. How like you this work, Master 
 Don?" 
 
 But that was all. Once Sir John Shelton looked 
 with some apprehension at the King, but the King 
 understood nothing, and though the sturdy country- 
 folk in their numbers might well have overcome 
 the guard, a rescue was obviously not thought of 
 nor was the slightest attempt at it made. 
 
 All this was quite homely and natural to Johnnie. 
 He felt with the people; he had spent his life in the 
 country. Down at quiet, retired Commendone his 
 father and he were greatly loved by all the farmers 
 and peasants of the estate. His mother that 
 graceful Spanish lady had endeared herself for 
 many years to the simple folk of Kent. Old Father 
 Chilches had said Mass in the chapel at Commen- 
 done for many years without let or hindrance. 
 Catholic as the house of Commendone had always 
 been, there was nothing bigoted or fanatical in 
 their religion. And now the young man's heart was 
 stirred to its very depths as this homely rustic folk 
 lifted up their voices in sorrow. 
 
 Even then, however, he questioned nothing in 
 his mind of the justice of what was to be done. 
 Despite the infinite pity he felt for this good
 
 80 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 pastor who was to die and his flock who grieved 
 him so, he was yet perfectly loyal in his mind to 
 the power which ordained the execution, part of 
 whose machinery he was. The Queen had said 
 so; the monarch could do no wrong. There were 
 reasons of State, reasons of polity, reasons of re- 
 ligion which he himself was not competent to enter 
 into or to discuss, but which he accepted blindly 
 then. 
 
 And so, as they moved onwards towards Aid- 
 ham Common, where the final scene was to be en- 
 acted, he moved with the others, one of the 
 ministers of doom. 
 
 And through all the bright morning air, through 
 the cries and tears of the country-folk, he heard 
 one voice, the voice of a girl, he saw one white 
 and lovely face ever before his eyes. 
 
 When they came to Aldham Common there was 
 a great multitude of people gathered there. 
 
 " What place is this? " Dr. Taylor asked, with 
 a smile, though he knew very well. " And what 
 meaneth it that so much people are gathered to- 
 gether?" 
 
 The Sheriff, who was a stranger to this part of 
 the country, and who was very agitated and upset, 
 answered him with eager and deprecating civility. 
 " It is Aldham Common, Dr. Taylor, the place 
 where you must suffer; and the people are come 
 to look upon you." The good man hardly knew 
 what he was saying. 
 
 Dr. Taylor smiled once more.
 
 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 81 
 
 " Thanked be God," he said, " I am even at 
 home," and alighted from his horse. 
 
 Sir John Shelton, who also dismounted, snatched 
 the hat from the Doctor's head, which was shown 
 to be clipped close, like a horse's back in summer 
 time a degradation which Bishop Bonner had 
 caused to be performed upon him the night before 
 as a mean and vulgar revenge for the Doctor's 
 words to him at the ceremony of his degradation. 
 
 But when the people saw Dr. Taylor's reverent 
 and ancient face and his long white beard, they 
 burst into louder weeping than ever, and cried, 
 "God save thee, good Dr. Taylor! Jesus Christ 
 strengthen thee, and help thee; the Holy Ghost 
 comfort thee," and many other suchlike godly 
 wishes. 
 
 They were now come into the centre of Aldham 
 Common, where already a posse of men sent by 
 the Sheriff of the county were keeping a space 
 clear round a tall post which had been set into 
 the ground, and which was the stake. 
 
 Sir John Shelton, who now assumed complete 
 command of the proceedings, gave several loud 
 orders. The people were pressed back with oaths 
 and curses by the yeomen of the escort, and Dr. 
 Taylor was hurried quickly towards the stake. 
 
 The long ride from London had not been with- 
 out a certain quiet and dignity; but from this 
 moment everything that was done was rude, hur- 
 ried, and violent. The natural brutality of Shelton 
 and his men blazed up suddenly. What before had
 
 82 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 been ineffably sad was now changed to horror, as 
 John Commendone sat his horse by the side of the 
 man whose safety he was there to guard, and 
 watched the final scene. 
 
 Dr. Taylor, who was standing by the stake and 
 disrobing, wished to speak to the people, but the 
 yeomen of the guard were so busy about him that 
 as soon as he opened his mouth one or another of 
 these fellows thrust a fist or tipstaff into his mouth. 
 They were round him like a pack of dogs, snarl- 
 ing, buffeting him, making him feel indeed the 
 bitterness of death. 
 
 This was done by Sir John Shelton's orders, no 
 doubt committed to him from London, for it was 
 obvious that any popular feeling in the martyr's 
 favour must be suppressed as soon as possibly 
 could be done. 
 
 If Dr. Taylor had been allowed to speak to the 
 surging crowd that knew and loved him, the well- 
 known voice, the familiar and beloved exhortations 
 might well have aroused a fury against the minis- 
 ters of the law which they would be powerless to 
 withstand. 
 
 Dr. Taylor himself seemed to recognise this, 
 for he sat down upon a stool which was placed 
 near the stake and did not offer to speak again. 
 He looked round while three or four ill-favoured 
 fellows in leather were bringing up bundles of 
 furze and freshly cut faggots to the stake, and as 
 he was obviously not about to address the people, 
 the guard was a little relaxed.
 
 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 83 
 
 He saw pressing on the outskirts of the crowd 
 an old countryman, with a brown wrinkled face. 
 
 " Soyce," he called out cheerily, " I pray thee 
 come and pull off my boots, and take them for thy 
 labour. Thou hast long looked for them, now take 
 them." 
 
 The ancient fellow, who was indeed the sexton 
 of Hadley Church, came trembling up, and did as 
 the rector asked. 
 
 Then Dr. Taylor rose up, and put off his clothes 
 unto his shirt, and gave them away. Which done, 
 he said with a loud voice, " Good people ! I have 
 taught you nothing but God's Holy Word and 
 those lessons that I have taken out of God's blessed 
 Book, the Holy Bible." 
 
 He had hardly said it when a sergeant of the 
 guard, named Homes, gave him a great stroke 
 upon the head with a waster, and said, " Is that the 
 keeping of thy promise, thou heretic?" 
 
 The venerable head, now stained with blood, 
 drooped, and for a moment the vitality and vigour 
 seemed to go from the Rector. He saw that it 
 was utterly useless, that there was no hope of 
 him being allowed to address his folk, and so he 
 knelt down and prayed in silence. 
 
 While he was praying a very old woman, in 
 poor rags, that was standing among the people, ran 
 in and knelt by his side, and prayed with him. 
 
 Homes caught hold of her and tried to drag 
 her from the Doctor, but she screamed loudly and 
 clung to the Rector's knees.
 
 84 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 'Tread her down with horses; tread her 
 down," said Sir John Shelton, his face purple with 
 anger. 
 
 But even the knight's men would not do it, and 
 there was such a deep threatening murmur from 
 the crowd that Shelton forbore, and the old woman 
 stayed there and prayed with the Doctor. 
 
 At last he rose, blessing her, and, dressed only 
 in his shirt, big, burly, and very dignified, he went 
 to the stake and kissed it, and set himself into a 
 pitch barrel, which they had put for him to stand 
 in. 
 
 He stood there so, with his back upright against 
 the stake, with his hands folded together, and his 
 eyes towards heaven, praying continually. 
 
 Four men set up the faggots and piled them 
 round him, and one brought a torch to make the 
 fire. 
 
 As the furze lit and began to crackle at the bot- 
 tom of the pile, the man Homes, either really mad 
 with religious hatred, or, as is more probable, a 
 brute, only zealous to ingratiate himself with his 
 commander, picked up a billet of wood and cast 
 it most cruelly at the Doctor. It lit upon his 
 head and broke his face, so that the blood ran 
 down it. 
 
 Then said Dr. Taylor, " O friend, I have harm 
 enough; what needed that?" 
 
 Then, with Sir John Shelton standing close by, 
 and the people round shuddering with horror, the 
 Rector began to say the Psalm Miserere in English.
 
 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 85 
 
 Sir John shot out his great red hand and 
 struck the martyr upon the lips with his open 
 palm. 
 
 "Ye knave," he said, "speak Latin; I will 
 make thee." 
 
 At that, John Commendone, scarcely knowing 
 what he did, leapt from his horse and caught 
 Shelton by the shoulder. With all the strength 
 of his young athletic frame he sent him spinning 
 away from the stake. Sir John staggered, recov- 
 ered himself, and with his face blazing with anger, 
 rushed at the young man. 
 
 At that the King suddenly wheeled his horse, 
 and interposed between them. 
 
 " Keep you away, Sir John," he said in Spanish, 
 " that is enough." 
 
 The knight did not understand the King's 
 words, but the tone and the accent were signifi- 
 cant. With a glare of fury at Johnnie, he slunk 
 aside to his men. 
 
 The calm voice of the Rector went on reciting 
 the words of the Psalm. When it was finished 
 he said the Gloria, and as the smoke rolled up 
 around him, and red tongues of flame began to be 
 brightly visible in the sunlight, he held up both 
 his hands, and said, " Merciful Father of heaven, 
 for Jesus Christ my Saviour's sake, receive my 
 soul into Thy hands." 
 
 So stood he still without either crying or mov- 
 ing, with his hands folded together, until sud- 
 denly one of the men-at-arms caught up a halbert
 
 86 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 and struck him on the head so that the brains fell 
 out, and the corpse sank into the fire. 
 
 " Thus," says the chronicler, " the man of God 
 gave his blessed soul into the hands of his merciful 
 Father, and his most dear and certain Saviour Jesus 
 Christ, Whom he most entirely loved, faithfully 
 and earnestly preached, obediently followed in liv- 
 ing, and constantly glorified in death."
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 JOHN COMMENDONE, Sir John Shelton, and the 
 King of Spain walked up a flight of broad stone 
 steps, which led to the wide-open door of Mr. Peter 
 Lacel's house on the far side of Aldham Common. 
 
 It was now about ten o'clock in the morning, or 
 a little after. 
 
 As soon as the body of the martyr had fallen 
 into the flames, Sir John had wheeled round upon 
 his horse, and, attended by his men-, had trotted 
 away, breaking through the crowd, who had rushed 
 to the smouldering pyre and were pressing round 
 it. They had gone some three hundred yards on 
 to the Common at a quick pace. 
 
 " I don't like this at all, Sire," Sir John had 
 muttered to the King. " The people are very 
 turbulent. It will be as well, I think, that we go 
 to the ' Crown.' It is that large house on the 
 other side of the Common. There we shall find 
 entertainment and refreshment, for I am told it is 
 a good inn by a letter from the Sheriff, Mr. Peter 
 Lacel whom I had looked to see here as was duly 
 arranged." 
 
 Then Sir John had stopped suddenly. 
 
 " He cometh," he cried. " That is Mr. Lacel 
 87
 
 88 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 with his yeomen," and as the knight spoke Johnnie 
 saw a little party upon horseback galloping to- 
 wards them. Foremost of them was a bluff, 
 bearded country gentleman, his face agitated and 
 concerned. 
 
 " Good Sir John," said the gentleman as he 
 reined up his horse, " I would not have had this 
 happen for much money. I have mistook the hour, 
 and was upon some county business with two of 
 the justices at my house. Is it all over then? 
 Hath Dr. Taylor suffered?" 
 
 ' The runagate is stone dead," Shelton replied. 
 " It is all over, and hath passed off as well as may 
 be, though I like not very much the demeanour of 
 the people. But how do you, Mr. Lacel? " 
 
 " I do very well, thank you," the Sheriff an- 
 swered, " but I hope much, Sir John, that this 
 mischance of mine will not be accounted to me as 
 being any lack of zeal to Her Grace." 
 
 Shelton waved his hand. " No," he said, " we 
 know you very well, Mr. Lacel. Lack of loyalty 
 will never be put to your charge. But now, doubt- 
 less, you will entertain us, for we have ridden 
 since early dawn, and are very tired." 
 
 Mr. Lacel's face shone with relief. " Come 
 you, Sir John," he said, " come you with these 
 gentlemen and your men forthwith to the Manor. 
 You must indeed be weary and needing refresh- 
 ment. But what of yonder?" 
 
 He pointed in front of him, and Sir John turned 
 in his saddle.
 
 MEETING WITH JOHN HULL 89 
 
 A few hundred yards away a dense crowd was 
 swaying, and above their heads even now was a 
 column of yellow smoke. 
 
 " There is no need for you there, Mr. Lacel," 
 Sir John replied. ' The Sheriff of London and 
 his men are doing all that is needful. I am here 
 with mine, and we shall all be glad to taste your 
 hospitality after this business. This," he made 
 a little gesture of the hand towards Johnnie " is 
 Mr. Commendone, Sir Henry Commendone's son, 
 of Kent, attached to the King's person, and here 
 to-day to report of Dr. Taylor's burning to the 
 Queen. This " here he bowed towards Philip 
 " a Spanish nobleman of high degree, who is of 
 His Majesty's Gentlemen, and who hath ridden 
 with us." 
 
 " Bid ye welcome, gentlemen," said Mr. Lacel, 
 " and now, an ye will follow me, there is break- 
 fast ready in the Manor, and you can forget this 
 nasty work, for I doubt none of you like it better 
 than myself." 
 
 With that the whole party had trotted onwards 
 towards the Sheriff's house. 
 
 The men-at-arms were met by grooms and serv- 
 ants, and taken round to the buttery. John, Shel- 
 ton, and the King walked up the steps and into a 
 great hall, where a long table was laid for their 
 reception. 
 
 The King, whose demeanour to his host was 
 haughty and indifferent, spoke no word at all, and 
 Sir John Shelton was in considerable embarrass-
 
 9 o HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 ment. At all costs, the King's incognito must be 
 preserved. Mr. Lacel was a Catholic gentleman 
 of Suffolk, a simple, faithful, unthinking country 
 squire, who, at the same time, had some local 
 influence. It would never do, however, to let 
 the Sheriff know that the King himself was under 
 his roof, and yet His Highness's demeanour was 
 so reserved and cold, his face so melancholy, 
 frozen, and inscrutable, that Shelton was consider- 
 ably perplexed. It was with a sense of great relief 
 that he remembered the King spoke but little Eng- 
 lish, and he took Mr. Lacel aside while serving- 
 men were placing chairs at the table, and whispered 
 that the Don was a cold, unlikeable fellow, 
 but high in the Royal favour, and must be con- 
 sidered. 
 
 " Not a testoon care I," Mr. Lacel answered. 
 " I am glad to see ye, Sir John, and these Court 
 gallants from Spain disturb me not at all. Now, 
 sit ye down, sit ye down, and fall to." 
 
 They all sat down at the table. 
 
 The King took a silver cup of wine, bowed to 
 his host, and sipped. His face was very yellow, 
 his eyes dwindled, and a general air of cold and 
 lassitude pervaded him. Suddenly he turned to 
 Commendone, who was sitting by his side watching 
 his master with eager and somewhat frightened 
 attention. 
 
 " Senor," he said, in Spanish, " Senor Commen- 
 done, I am very far from well. The long ride 
 hath tired me. I would rest. Speak to Sir John
 
 MEETING WITH JOHN HULL 91 
 
 Shelton, and ask this worthy caballero, who is my 
 host, if I may retire to rest." 
 
 Johnnie spoke at once to Mr. Lacel, explaining 
 that the Spanish nobleman was very fatigued and 
 wished to lie down. 
 
 The Sheriff jumped up at once, profuse in hos- 
 pitality, and himself led the way, followed by the 
 King and Commendone, to an upper chamber. 
 
 They saw the King lie down upon the bed, and 
 curtains pulled half-way over the mullioned win- 
 dows of the room, letting only a faint beam of 
 sunlight enter there. 
 
 ' Thy friend will be all right now, Mr. Com- 
 mendone," said the squire. " These Spanish gen- 
 tlemen are not over-strong, methinks." He laughed 
 roughly, and Johnnie heard again, in the voice of 
 this country gentleman, that dislike of Spain and 
 of the Spanish Match, which his own father 
 shared. 
 
 They went out of the room together, and John- 
 nie shrugged his shoulders it was absolutely 
 necessary that the identity of the King should not 
 be suspected. 
 
 "Well, well, Mr. Lacel," he said, linking his 
 arm within his host's, and assuming a friendly 
 country manner which, of course, came perfectly 
 natural to him, " it is not for you and I to question 
 or to make comment upon those gentlemen from 
 over-seas who are in high favour in London just 
 now. Let us to breakfast." 
 
 In a minute more they were sitting at the table,
 
 92 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 where Sir John Shelton was already busy with wine 
 and food. 
 
 For a few minutes the three men ate in silence. 
 Then Mr. Lacel must have from them every de- 
 tail of the execution. It was supplied him with 
 great vigour and many oaths by Sir John. 
 
 Mr. Lacel shook himself. 
 
 " I am indeed sorry," said he, " that I was 
 not at the execution, because it was my bounden 
 duty to be there. Natheless, I am not sorry for 
 myself. To see a rogue or masterless man trussed 
 up is very well, but Dr. Rowland Taylor that was 
 Rector here, and hath in times past been a guest 
 at this very table well, I am glad I did not see 
 the man die. Was a pleasant fellow, could wind a 
 horn or throw a falcon with any of the gentry 
 round, had a good lusty voice in a chorus, and 
 learning much beyond the general." 
 
 " Mr. Lacel, Mr. Lacel," Sir John Shelton said 
 in a loud and rather bullying voice, " surely you 
 have no sympathy nor liking for heretics? " 
 
 " Not I, i' faith," said the old gentleman at the 
 top of the table, striking the thick oak with his fist. 
 " I have been a good Catholic ever, and justice 
 must be done. 'Twas the man I liked, Master 
 Shelton, 'twas the man I liked. Now we have here 
 as Rector a Mr. Lacy. He is a good Catholic 
 priest, and dutiful at all his services. I go to 
 Mass three times a week. But Father Lacy, as a 
 man, is but a sorry scrub. He eateth nothing, and 
 a firkin of ale would last him six months. Still,
 
 MEETING WITH JOHN HULL 93 
 
 gentlemen, ye cannot live on both sides of a buck- 
 ler. Poor Roly Taylor was a good, honest man, a 
 sportsman withal, and well loved over the country- 
 side I am glad I saw not his burning. Certainly 
 upon religion he was mad and very ill-advised, and 
 so dies he. I trust his stay in purgation be but 
 short." 
 
 Sir John Shelton put down his tankard with a 
 crash. 
 
 " My friend," he said, " doth not know that 
 His Grace of London did curse this heretic? I 
 myself was there and heard it." 
 
 The ruffian lifted his tankard of wine to his 
 lips, and took a long draught. His face was 
 growing red, his eyes twinkled with half-drunken 
 cunning and suspicion. 
 
 "Aye," he cried, "I heard it ' And by the 
 authority of God the Father Almighty, and of the 
 Blessed Virgin Mary, of St. Peter and Paul, and 
 of the Holy Saints, we excommunicate, we utterly 
 curse and ban, commit and deliver to the Devil of 
 hell, ye that have in spite of God and of St. Peter, 
 whose Church this is, in spite of holy saints, and 
 in spite of our most Holy Father the Pope, God's 
 Vicar here on earth, denied the truths of Holy 
 Church. Accursed may ye be, and give body and 
 soul to the Devil. We give ye over utterly to the 
 power of the Fiend, and thy soul when thou art 
 dead shall lie this night in the pains of hell-fire, as 
 this candle is now quenched and put out.' ' 
 
 As he finished, Sir John knocked over a tall
 
 94 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 glass cruet of French vinegar, and stared with in- 
 creasing drunkenness at his host. 
 
 Mr. Lacel, simple gentleman that he was, was 
 obviously disgusted at his guest. He said very 
 little, however, seeing that the man was somewhat 
 gone in liquor, as Johnnie also realised that the 
 stale potations of the night before were wakened 
 by the new drink, and rising up into Shelton's 
 brain. 
 
 " Well, well, Sir John," Mr. Lacel replied, " I 
 am no theologian, but I am a good son of the 
 Church, and have always been, as you and those 
 at Court those in high places, Sir John," he said 
 it with a certain emphasis and spirit " know very 
 well." 
 
 The quiet and emphatic voice had its effect. 
 Shelton dropped his bullying manner. He was 
 aware, and realised that Mr. Lacel probably knew 
 also, that he was but a glorified man-at-arms, a led 
 captain, and not at all in the confidence of great 
 people, nor acquainted with private affairs of State. 
 He had been puffed up by his recent association 
 with the King in his vile pleasures, but a clever 
 ruffian enough, he saw now that he had gone too 
 far. 
 
 He saw also that John Commendone was look- 
 ing at him with a fixed and disdainful expression. 
 He remembered that the young courtier was high 
 in the good graces of the King and Queen. 
 
 " I' faith," he cried, with an entire change of 
 manner " I* faith, old friend Peter, I was but
 
 MEETING WITH JOHN HULL 95 
 
 jesting; we all know thou art loyal to Church and 
 State, their law. Mr. Commendone, I ask you, 
 hast seen a more- 
 Johnnie's voice cut into the man's babbling. 
 
 " Sir John," he said, " if I were you I would 
 go upstairs and see how the Spanish gentleman 
 doeth." 
 
 He looked very keenly, and with great meaning, 
 at the knight. 
 
 Sir John pushed his chair from the table. 
 " Spine of God," he cried thickly, " and I was 
 near forgetting His Highness. I will to him at 
 once." 
 
 He stumbled away from the table, pulled him- 
 self together, and, following Mr. Lacel's butler, 
 who had just come into the hall, ascended the broad 
 stairway. 
 
 Mr. Lacel looked very curiously at Johnnie. 
 
 " Sir," he said in a low voice, looking round the 
 hall to see if any servant were within earshot, 
 " that drunkard hath said more than he meant. I 
 am not quite the country fool I seem to be, but 
 least said is soonest mended. I have known Sir 
 John Shelton for some years a good man in the 
 chase, a soldier, but a drunken fool withal. I know 
 your name, and I have met your father at the Wool 
 Exchange in London. We are both of Catholic 
 houses, but I think none of us like what is going 
 on now, and like to go on since " here he dropped 
 his voice almost to a whisper, and glanced up- 
 wards to the gallery which ran round the hall
 
 96 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 " since Her Grace had wedded out of the kingdom. 
 But we must say nothing. Who that gentleman 
 upstairs is, I do not seek to know, but I tell you 
 this, Mr. Commendone, that, heretic or none, I 
 go to-morrow morning to Father Lacy and give 
 him a rose-angel to say masses for the soul of a 
 good dead friend of mine. I shall not tell him who 
 'tis, and he's too big a fool to ask, but ' 
 
 The old man's voice caught in his throat. He 
 lifted his cup, and instinctively Johnnie did the 
 same. 
 
 " Here's to him," Mr. Lacel whispered, " and 
 to his dame, a sweet and gracious lady, and to his 
 little lad Thomas, and the girl Mary; they have 
 oft sat on my knee for I am an old widower, Mr. 
 Commendone when I have told them the tale of 
 the babes in the wood." 
 
 Tears were in the Sheriff's eyes, and in the eyes 
 of the young man also, as he raised his cup to his 
 lips and drank the sad and furtive toast. 
 
 "And here," Mr. Lacel continued, lifting his 
 cup once more, and leaning forward over the table 
 close to his, " and here's to Lizzie, whom dear 
 Dr. Taylor adopted to be as his own daughter 
 when she was but a little maid of three. Here's to 
 Elizabeth, the sweetest girl, the most blithe com- 
 panion, the daintiest, most brave little lady that 
 ever trod the lanes of Suffolk 
 
 He had hardly finished speaking, and Johnnie's 
 hand was trembling as he lifted the goblet to his 
 lips, when there was a noise in the gallery above,
 
 MEETING WITH JOHN HULL 97 
 
 and Sir John Shelton, pale of face, and followed 
 by the butler, came noisily down the oak stairs. 
 
 The knight's manner was more than a little ex- 
 cited. 
 
 " Mr. Commendone," he said in a quick but 
 conciliatory voice, " His Highness that is to say, 
 the Spanish gentleman is very fatigued, and can- 
 not ride to London to-day." 
 
 He turned to Mr. Lacel. 
 
 " Peter," he said, and his voice was now anxious 
 and suave, the voice of a man of affairs, and with 
 something definite to say, " Peter, I must claim 
 your hospitality for the night for myself and 
 for my Spanish friend. Also, I fear, for my 
 men." 
 
 Mr. Lacel bowed. " Sir John," he said, " my 
 poor house is very gladly at your disposal, and you 
 may command me in all ways." 
 
 " I thank you," Sir John answered, " I thank 
 you very much. You are doing me a service, and 
 perhaps other people a service which He 
 
 broke off shortly, and turned once more to Com- 
 mendone. " Mr. Commendone," he said, " it is 
 requisite that you will at once to horse with your 
 own servant and one of my men, and ride to Lon- 
 don Excuse me, Peter, but I have a privy word 
 to say to the Esquire." 
 
 He drew Johnnie aside. " You must ride post- 
 haste to the Queen," he said, " and tell her that 
 His Majesty is very weary or eke unwell. He will 
 lie the night here and come to London with me in
 
 98 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 the morning, and by the Mass, Mr. Commendone, 
 I don't envy you your commission ! " 
 
 " I will go at once," Johnnie answered, look- 
 ing at his watch. 
 
 " Very good, Mr. Commendone," Sir John 
 answered. " I am not of the Privy Closet, as you 
 know. You are in communion with Her Grace, and 
 have been. But if all we of the guard hear is 
 true, then I am sorry for you. Natheless, you 
 must do it. Tell Her Grace of the burning oh, 
 tell her anything that commendeth itself to you, 
 but let her not think that His Highness is upon 
 some lover's business. And of Duck Lane not a 
 word, not a single word, as you value your fa- 
 vour!" 
 
 " It is very likely, is it not, Sir John," Com- 
 mendone answered, " that I should say anything of 
 Duck Lane?" 
 
 The sneer in his voice was so pronounced that 
 the big bully writhed uneasily. 
 
 " Surely," he replied, " you are a very pattern 
 and model of discretion. I know it well enough, 
 Mr. Commendone." 
 
 Johnnie made his adieux to his host. 
 
 "But what about your horses, sir?" the old 
 gentleman asked. " As I understand it, you ride 
 post-haste to London. Your nag will not take 
 you there very fast after your long ride." 
 
 " I must post, that is all," Johnnie answered. 
 " I can get a relay at Chelmsford." 
 
 " Nay, Mr. Commendone, it is not to be thought
 
 MEETING WITH JOHN HULL 99 
 
 of," said the squire. " Now, look you. I have a 
 plenty horses in my stables. There is a roan mare 
 spoiling for work that will suit you very well. And 
 what servants are you taking? " 
 
 Sir John Shelton broke in. 
 
 " Hadst better take thy own servant and two 
 of my men," he said. " You will be riding back 
 upon the way we came, and I doubt me the country 
 folk are too friendly." 
 
 " That is easy done," said Mr. Lacel. " I can 
 horse your yeomen also. In four days I ride my- 
 self to Westminster, where I spend a sennight 
 with my brother, and hope to pay my duties at the 
 Court when it moveth to Whitehall, as I hear it is 
 about to do. The horses I shall lend you, Mr. 
 Commendone, can be sent to my brother's, Sir 
 Frank Lacel, of Lacel House." 
 
 " I thank you very much, sir," Johnnie an- 
 swered, " you are very kind." And with that he 
 said farewell, and in a very few minutes was rid- 
 ing over Aldham Common, on his way back to 
 London. 
 
 Right in the centre of the Common there was 
 still a large crowd of people, and he saw a farm 
 cart with two horses standing there. 
 
 He made a wide detour, however, to get into 
 the main road for Hadley, shrinking with a sudden 
 horror, more poignant and more physically sick- 
 ening than anything he had known before, from 
 the last sordid and grisly details of the martyr's 
 obsequies.
 
 ioo HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 . . . No ! Anything would be better than to 
 see this dreadful cleaning up. . . . 
 
 The big rawbone mare which he was riding 
 was fresh and playful. Johnnie was a consummate 
 horseman, and he was glad of the distraction of 
 keeping the beast under control. She had a hard 
 mouth, and needed all his skill. 
 
 For four or five miles, followed by his attendants 
 at a distance of two or three hundred yards, he 
 rode at a fast canter, now and then letting the 
 mare stretch her legs upon the turf which bordered 
 the rough country road. After this, when the 
 horse began to settle down to steady work, 
 he went on at a fast trot, but more mechanic- 
 ally, and thought began to be born within him 
 again. 
 
 Until now he had seemed to be walking and 
 moving in a dream. Even the horrors he had 
 seen had been hardly real. Inexperienced as he 
 was in many aspects of life, he yet knew well that 
 the man with an imagination and sensitive nerves 
 suffers far more in the memory of a dreadful thing 
 than he does at the actual witnessing of it. The 
 very violence of what he had seen done that day 
 had deadened all the nerves, forbidding full sen- 
 sation as a man wounded in battle, or with a 
 limb lopped off by sword or shot, is often seen 
 looking with an amazed incredulity at himself, 
 feeling no pain whatever for the moment. 
 
 It was now that John Commendone began to 
 suffer. Every detail of Dr. Taylor's death etched
 
 MEETING WITH JOHN HULL 101 
 
 themselves in upon his brain in a succession of 
 pictures which burnt like fire. 
 
 As this or that detail in colour, movement, and 
 sound came back to him so vividly, his heart be- 
 gan to drum, his eyes to fill with tears, or grow 
 dry with horror, the palms of his hands to become 
 wet. He lived the whole thing over again. And 
 once more his present surroundings became dream- 
 like, as he cantered through the lanes, and what 
 was past became hideously, dreadfully real. 
 
 Yet, as the gallant mare bore him swiftly on- 
 wards, he realised that the horror and disgust 
 he felt were in reality subservient to something 
 else within him. His whole being seemed quick- 
 ened, infinitely more alert, ready for action, than 
 it had ever been before. He was like a man who 
 had all his life been looking out upon the world 
 through smoked or tinted glasses very pleased 
 and delighted with all he saw, unable to realise 
 that there could be anything more true, more vivid. 
 
 Then, suddenly, the glass is removed. The neu- 
 tral greyness which he has taken for the natural, 
 commendable view of things, changes and falls 
 away. The whole world is seen in an infinity of 
 light and colour undreamed of, unexpected, won- 
 derfully, passionately new. 
 
 It was thus with Johnnie, and the fact for some 
 time was stunning and paralysing. 
 
 Then, as the brain adjusted itself slowly to fresh 
 and marvellous conditions, he began to question 
 himself.
 
 102 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 What did it mean? What did it mean to him? 
 What lay before? 
 
 Quite suddenly the explanation came, and he 
 knew. 
 
 It was the face of a tall girl, who stood by St. 
 Botolph's tower in the ghostly dawn that had 
 done this thing. It was her voice that had rent 
 aside the veil; it was her eyes of agony which lit 
 up the world so differently. 
 
 With that knowledge, with the quick hammer- 
 ing of love at a virgin heart, there came also an 
 enormous expectation. Till now life had been 
 pleasant and happy. All the excitements of the 
 past seemed but incidents in a long tranquillity. 
 
 The orchestra had finished the prelude to the 
 play. Now the traverse was drawn aside, and 
 action began. 
 
 As the young man realised this, and the white 
 splendour of the full summer sun was answered by 
 the inexpressible glow within, he realised, physi- 
 cally, that he was galloping madly along the road, 
 pressing his spurs to his horse's flanks, riding 
 with loose rein, the stirrups behind him, crouch- 
 ing forward upon the peaked saddle. He pulled 
 his horse up within two or three hundred yards, 
 though with considerable difficulty, the animal 
 seeming, in some subtle way, to share and be part 
 of that which was rioting within his brain. 
 
 He pulled her up, however, and she stood trem- 
 bling and breathing hard, with great clots of white 
 foam covering the rings of the bit. He soothed
 
 MEETING WITH JOHN HULL 103 
 
 her, patting the strong veined neck with his hand, 
 bringing it away from the darkening hide covered 
 with sweat. Then, when she was a little more at 
 ease, he slipped from the saddle and led her a few 
 paces along the road to where in the hedge a stile 
 was set, upon which he sat himself. 
 
 He held hold of the rein for a minute until he 
 saw the mare begin to crop the roadside grass 
 quietly enough, when he released her. 
 
 For a mile or more the road by which he had 
 come stretched white and empty in the sun. There 
 was no trace of his men. He waited there till they 
 could come up to him. 
 
 He began to talk to himself in slow, measured 
 terms, his own voice sounding strange in his ears, 
 coming to them with a certain comfort. It was as 
 though once more he had regained full command 
 and captaincy of his own soul. There were great 
 things to be done, he was commander of his own 
 legions, and, like a general before a battle, he 
 was issuing measured orders to his staff. 
 
 "So that it must be; it must be just that; I 
 must find Elizabeth " his subconscious brain 
 heard with a certain surprise and wonder how the 
 slow voice trembled at the word " I must find 
 Elizabeth. And then, when I have found her, I 
 must tell her that she, and she alone, is to be my 
 wife, and my lady ever more. I must sue and 
 woo her, and then she must be my wife. It is that 
 which I have to do. The Court is nothing; my 
 service is nothing; it is Elizabeth! "
 
 io 4 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 The mare raised her head, her mouth full of 
 long sweet grass, and she looked at him with mild, 
 brown eyes. 
 
 He rose from the stile, put his hand within his 
 doublet, and pulled out a little crucifix of ebony, 
 with a Christ of gold nailed to it. 
 
 He kissed it, and then, singularly heartened and 
 resolute in mind, he mounted again, seeing, as 
 he did so, that his men were coming up behind. 
 He waited till they were near and then trotted off, 
 and in an hour came to the outskirts of Chelms- 
 ford town. 
 
 It was now more than two hours after noon, and 
 he halted with his men at the " Tun," the principal 
 inn of the place, and adjacent to a brewery of red 
 brick, where the famous Chelmsford ale no less 
 celebrated then than now was brewed. 
 
 He rode into the courtyard of the inn, and the 
 ostlers came hurrying up and took his horse away, 
 while he went into the ordinary and sat down be- 
 fore a great round of beef. 
 
 The landlord, seeing a gentleman of quality, 
 bustled in and carved for him a pottle-bellied, 
 voluble man, with something eminently kindly and 
 human in his eye. 
 
 "From the Court, sir, I do not doubt?" he 
 said. 
 
 Johnnie nodded. 
 
 " If I mistake not, you are one of the gentle- 
 men who rode with the Sheriff and Dr. Rowland 
 Taylor this morning? "
 
 MEETING WITH JOHN HULL 105 
 
 " That was I," Johnnie answered, looking 
 keenly at the man. 
 
 " I would have wagered it was, sir. We saw 
 the party go by early. Is the Doctor dead, sir? " 
 
 Johnnie nodded once more. 
 
 " And a very right and proper thing it is," the 
 landlord continued, " that such should die the 
 death." 
 
 " And why think you that, landlord? " Johnnie 
 asked. 
 
 The landlord scratched his head, looking doubt- 
 fully at his guest. 
 
 " It is not for me to say, sir," he replied, after 
 a moment's hesitation. " I am but a tradesman, 
 and have no concern with affairs of State. I am a 
 child in these things, but doubtless what was done 
 was done very well." 
 
 Johnnie pushed away the pewter plate in front 
 of him. " My man," he said, " you can speak 
 freely to me. What think you in truth? " 
 
 The landlord stared at him for a moment, and 
 then suddenly sat down at the table. 
 
 " I don't know, sir," he said, " who or what 
 you may be. As thou art from the Court, thou 
 art a good Catholic doubtless, or wouldst not be 
 there, but you have an honest face, and I will tell 
 you what I think. Under King Hal I gat me to 
 church, and profited well thereby in that reign, 
 for the abbey being broke up, and the friars dis- 
 persed, there was no more free beer for any rogue 
 or masterless man to get from the buttery, aye, and
 
 io6 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 others of this town with property, and well-liked 
 men, who would drink the monks' brew free rather 
 than pay for mine own. So, God bless King 
 Henry, I say, who brought much custom to mine 
 inn, being a wise prince. And now, look you, I 
 go to Mass, and custom diminisheth not at all. I 
 have had this inn for thirty years, my father be- 
 fore me for fifty; and in this inn, sir, I mean to 
 die. It is nothing to me whether bread and wine 
 are but bread and wine, or whether they be That 
 which all must now believe. I am but a simple 
 man, and let wiser than I decide, keeping always 
 with those who must certainly know better than I. 
 Meanwhile I shall sell my beer and bring up my 
 family as an honest man should do God's death ! 
 What is that?" 
 
 He started from his chair as Johnnie did like- 
 wise, for even as the man spoke a most horrid and 
 untoward noise filled all the air. 
 
 Both men rushed to the bulging window of 
 leaded glass, which looked out into the High 
 Street. 
 
 There was a huge shouting, a frightful stamp 
 and clatter as of feet and horses' hooves upon the 
 stones, but above all there came a shrill, snarling, 
 neighing noise, ululating with a ferocity that was 
 not human, a vibration of rage, which was like 
 nothing Commendone had ever heard before. 
 
 "Jesus! But what is this?" Johnnie cried, 
 flinging open the casement, his face suddenly white 
 with fear so utterly outside all experience was the
 
 MEETING WITH JOHN HULL 107 
 
 dreadful screeching, which now seemed a thousand 
 times louder. 
 
 He peered out into the street and saw people 
 rushing to the doors and windows of all the houses 
 opposite, with faces as white and startled as his 
 own. He looked to the right, for it was from 
 there the pealing horror of sound was coming, but 
 he could see nothing, because less than twenty 
 yards away the High Street made a sudden turn 
 at right angles towards the Market Place. 
 
 " It is some devil, certes," the landlord panted. 
 " Apollyon must have just such a voice. 
 What " 
 
 The words died away upon his lips, and in a 
 moment the two men and all the other watchers 
 in the street knew what had happened. 
 
 With a furious stamping of hooves, round the 
 corner of an old timbered house, leaping from the 
 ground in ungovernable fury, and in that leaping 
 advancing but very slowly, came a huge stallion, 
 black as a coal, its eyes red with malice, its ears 
 laid back over its head, the huge bull-like neck 
 erect, and smeared with foam and blood. 
 
 Commendone had never seen such a monster; 
 indeed, there were but few of them in England at 
 that time the product of Lanarkshire mares 
 crossed with the fierce Flanders stallions, only just 
 then introduced into England by that Earl of 
 Arran who had been a suitor for the hand of the 
 Princess Elizabeth. 
 
 The thing seemed hardly horse, but malignant
 
 io8 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 demon rather, and with a cold chill at their hearts 
 the landlord and his guest saw that the stallion 
 gripped a man by one arm and shoulder, a man 
 that was no more a man, but a limp bundle of 
 clothes, and shook him as a terrier shakes a rat. 
 
 The bloody and evil eyes glared round on every 
 side as the great creature heaved itself into the 
 air, the long " feather " of silky hair about its 
 fetlocks waving like the pennons of lances. There 
 was a dreadful sense of display. The stallion was 
 consciously and wickedly performing, showing 
 what it could do in its strength of hatred evil, 
 sentient, malign. 
 
 It tossed the wretched man up into the air, 
 and flung him lifeless and broken at its fore feet. 
 And then, horror upon horror, it began to pound 
 him, smashing, breaking, and treading out what 
 little life remained, with an action the more dread- 
 ful and alarming in that it was one absolutely 
 alien to the usual habits of the horse. 
 
 It stopped at last, stiffened all over, its long, 
 wicked head stretched out like that of a pointing 
 dog, while its eyes roved round as if in search of 
 a new victim. 
 
 There was a dead silence in the street. 
 
 Then Johnnie saw a short, thick-set man, with 
 a big head and a brown face, come out from the 
 archway opposite, where he had been standing in 
 amazement, into the full street, facing the silent, 
 waiting beast. 
 
 Something stabbed the young man's heart
 
 MEETING WITH JOHN HULL 109 
 
 strangely. It was not fear for the man; it was 
 quite distinct from the breathless excitement and 
 sickening wonder of the moment. 
 
 Johnnie had seen this man before. 
 
 With slow, very slow, but resolute and deter- 
 mined steps, the man drew nearer to the stal- 
 lion. 
 
 He was within four yards of it, when it threw 
 up its head and opened its mouth wide, showing 
 the great glistening yellow teeth, the purple lips 
 curling away from them, in a rictus of malignity. 
 From the open mouth, covered with blood and 
 foam, once more came the frightful cry, the mad 
 challenge. 
 
 Even as that happened, the man, who carried 
 a stout stick of ash such as drovers used, leapt 
 at the beast and struck it full and fair upon the 
 muzzle, a blow so swift, and so hefty, withal, that 
 the ash-plant snapped in twain and flew up into 
 the air. 
 
 The next thing happened very swiftly. The 
 man, who had a short cloak upon his arm, threw 
 it over the stallion's head with a sudden move- 
 ment. ( There was a white flash in the sunshine, as 
 his short knife left his belt, and with one fierce 
 blow plunged deep into the lower portion of the 
 stallion's neck just above the great roll of fat and 
 muscle which arched down towards the chest. 
 
 Then, with both hands at the handle of the 
 knife, the man pulled it upwards, leaning back as 
 he did so, and putting all his strength into what
 
 no HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 he did, cutting through the living veins and trachea 
 as a butcher cuts meat. 
 
 There was a dreadful scream, which changed 
 upon an instant to a cough, a fountain of dark 
 blood, and the monster staggered and fell over 
 upon its side with a crash. 
 
 A minute afterwards Commendone was out in 
 the High Street mingling with the excited crowd 
 of townspeople. 
 
 He touched the sturdy brown-faced man upon 
 the shoulder. 
 
 " Come into the inn," he said. " I have some- 
 what to say to you, John Hull."
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 PART TAKEN IN AFFAIRS BY THE HALF TESTOON 
 
 IT was seven o'clock in the evening when John 
 Commendone arrived at the Tower. He went to 
 the Queen's Gallery, and found that Her Majesty 
 had just come back from Vespers in St. John's 
 Chapel, and was in the Privy Garden with some 
 of her ladies. 
 
 Mr. Ambrose Cholmondely was lieutenant of 
 the guard at this hour, and Johnnie went to him, 
 explaining that he must see the Queen at once. 
 
 " She won't see any one, Commendone," young 
 Mr. Cholmondely answered. " I really cannot send 
 your name to Her Grace." 
 
 " But I must see Her Grace. It is highly im- 
 portant." 
 
 Cholmondely looked at Commendone. 
 
 " You have ridden far and fast," he said. ' You 
 might even be the bearer of despatches, my friend 
 John. But I cannot send in your name to the 
 Queen. Even if I could, I certainly would not do 
 so when you are like this, in such disorder of 
 dress. You've come from no battle-field with 
 news of vietory. If the matter urgeth, as you say, 
 then you have your own remedy. The King Con- 
 sort lies ill in his own lodging; he hath not been 
 
 in
 
 ii2 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 seen of any one since supper last night. I don't 
 know where you have been or what you have been 
 doing, and it is no concern of mine, i' faith, but 
 you can very well go to the King's quarters, where, 
 if your business is as you say, one of the dons or 
 Spanish priests will speedily arrange an audience 
 for you with Her Grace." 
 
 Johnnie knew the rigid etiquette of the Court 
 very well. 
 
 Technically young Mr. Cholmondely was within 
 his rights. He had received orders and must obey 
 them. Upon the other hand, no one knew better 
 than Commendone that this young gallant was a 
 fool, puffed up with the favour of ladies, and who 
 from the first had regarded him as in some sense a 
 rival was jealous of him. 
 
 John realised in a moment that no one of the 
 Court except the Queen and King Philip's private 
 gentlemen knew of His Highness's absence. It 
 had been put about that he was ill. It would have 
 been an easy thing for Johnnie to turn away from 
 the gate of the Privy Garden, where, in the soft 
 sunset light, Mr. Cholmondely ruffled it so bravely, 
 and find Father Diego. But he was in no mood 
 at that moment for compromise. He was per- 
 fectly certain of his own right to admission. He 
 knew that the tidings he bore were far more im- 
 portant than any point of etiquette. He was cool 
 and suave enough as a general rule not at all 
 inclined, or a likely person, to infringe the stately 
 machinery which controlled the lives of monarchs.
 
 THE HALF TESTOON 113 
 
 But now he was in a mood when these things 
 seemed shrunken, smaller than they had ever been 
 before. He himself was animated by a great 
 private purpose, he bore a message from the King 
 himself to the Queen; he was in a state of exalta- 
 tion, and looking at the richly dressed young 
 courtier before him, remembering what a popinjay 
 and lap-dog of ladies he was, he felt a sudden 
 contempt for the man who barred his way. 
 
 He wouldn't have felt it before, but he was 
 older now. He had bitten in upon life, an extraor- 
 dinary strength and determination influenced him 
 and ran in his blood. 
 
 " Mr. Cholmondely," he said, " nevertheless, I 
 will go to the Queen, as I am, and go at 
 once." 
 
 Cholmondely was just inside the gates which 
 led to the Privy Garden, strolling up and down, 
 while outside the gates were two archers of the 
 Queen's Guard, and a halberdier of the garrison, 
 who was sitting upon a low stone bench. 
 
 Johnnie had passed the men and was standing 
 within the garden. 
 
 "You will, Mr. Commendone? " 
 
 Johnnie took a step forward and brushed the 
 other away with his left arm, contemptuously, as 
 if he had been a serving-man. Then he strode 
 onwards. 
 
 The other's sword was out of his scabbard in 
 a second, and he threw himself on guard, his face 
 livid with passion. Johnnie made no motion to-
 
 n 4 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 wards his own sword hilt, but he grasped the 
 other's light rapier with his right hand, twisted it 
 away with a swift muscular motion, broke it upon 
 his knee and flung the pieces into Cholmondely's 
 face. 
 
 " I go to Her Majesty," he said. " When I 
 have done my business with her, I will see you 
 again, Mr. Cholmondely, and you can send your 
 friend to my lodging." 
 
 Without a further glance at the lieutenant of the 
 guard he hurried down a broad gravelled path, 
 edged with stocks, asters and dark green borders 
 of box, towards where he knew he would find the 
 Queen. 
 
 Cholmondely stood, swaying and reeling for a 
 second. No word escaped him, but from his cheek, 
 cut by the broken sword, came a thin trickle of 
 scarlet. 
 
 Johnnie had turned out of the broad walk and 
 into the terraced rose-garden, which went down 
 to the river where he saw a group of brightly- 
 dressed ladies, rightly conjecturing that the Queen 
 was among them when he heard running steps 
 behind him. 
 
 Cholmondely had almost caught him up, and 
 a dagger gleamed in his right hand. A loud oath 
 burst from him, and he flung himself upon Com- 
 mendone. 
 
 At the exact moment that he did so, the ladies 
 had turned, and saw what was going on; and 
 while the two young men wrestled together, Choi-
 
 THE HALF TESTOON 115 
 
 mondely vainly trying to free his dagger-arm from 
 Commendone's vice-like grip, there came a loud, 
 angry voice which both knew well, booming 
 through the pergolas of roses. The instant the 
 great voice struck upon their ears they fell away 
 from each other, arms dropped to their sides, 
 breaths panting, eyes of hate and anger suddenly 
 changed and full of apprehension. 
 
 There were one or two shrieks and feminine 
 twitters, a rustle of silk skirts, a jangle of long 
 silver chatelaines, and like a bouquet of flowers 
 coming towards them, the queen's ladies hurried 
 over the lawn ; Her Grace's small form was a little 
 in advance of the rest. 
 
 Queen Mary came up to them, her thin face 
 suffused with passion. 
 
 " Sirs," she shouted, "what mean you by this? 
 Are gentlemen of Our Court to brawl in Our 
 gardens? By the Mass, it shall go very hard with 
 you gentlemen. It " 
 
 She saw Commendone. 
 
 Her voice changed in a second. 
 
 " Mr. Commendone ! Mr. Commendone ! You 
 here? I had looked to see you hours agone. 
 Where is " 
 
 She had nearly said it, but a warning flash from 
 the young man's eyes stayed the wild inquiry upon 
 her lips. Clever as she was, the Queen caught 
 herself up immediately. 
 
 ;< What is this, sir?" she said, more softly, 
 and in Spanish.
 
 n6 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 Johnnie sank on one knee. 
 
 " I have just come to the Tower, M'am," he 
 said, " with news for Your Majesty. As you see, 
 I am but just from my horse. I sought you post- 
 haste, and were told that you were here. Un- 
 fortunately, I could not persuade Mr. Cholmondely 
 of the urgency of my business. He had orders to 
 admit no one, and daring greatly, I pushed past 
 him, and in the execution of his duty he followed 
 me." 
 
 The Queen said nothing for a moment. Then 
 she turned upon Cholmondely. 
 
 " And who are you, Mr. Cholmondely," she 
 said in a cold, hard voice, " to deny the Esquire 
 Our presence when he comes with special tidings 
 to Us?" 
 
 Cholmondely bowed low. 
 
 " I did but hold to my orders, Madam," he 
 said, in a low voice. 
 
 The Queen ground her high-heeled shoe into 
 the gravel. 
 
 ' Your sword, Mr. Cholmondely," she said, 
 " you will hand it to the Esquire, and you will go 
 to your lodging to await our pleasure." 
 
 At that, the lieutenant of the guard gave a loud 
 sob, and his face became purple. 
 
 The Queen looked at him in amazement and 
 then saw that his scabbard was empty. 
 
 In a moment Johnnie had whipped out his own 
 riding-sword and pressed it into Mr. Cholmon- 
 dely's hand.
 
 THE HALF TESTOON 117 
 
 " Stupid! " he said, " here thou art. Now give 
 it me in order." 
 
 The Queen had taken it all in immediately. 
 The daughter of a King to whom the forms and 
 etiquette of chivalry were one of the guiding prin- 
 ciples of life, she realised in a moment what had 
 occurred. 
 
 " Boys ! Boys ! " she said, impatiently. " A 
 truce to your quarrels. If Mr. Commendone 
 robbed you of your sword, Mr. Cholmondely, 
 he hath very well made amends in giving you his. 
 You were right, Mr. Cholmondely, in not admit- 
 ting Mr. Commendone to Our presence, because 
 you knew not the business upon which he came. 
 And you were right, Mr. Commendone, in coming 
 to Us as you did at all hazards. Art two brave, 
 hot-headed boys. Now take each other's hand; 
 let there be no more of this, for " and her voice 
 became lowing and full of menace again " if I 
 hear so much as the rattle of thy swords against 
 each other, in future, neither of thee will e'er put 
 hand to pummel again." 
 
 The two young men touched each other's hand 
 both of them, to tell the truth, excessively glad 
 that affairs had turned out in this way. 
 
 " Get you back to your post," the Queen said 
 to the lieutenant. " Mr. Commendone, come 
 here." 
 
 She turned swiftly, passing through her ladies, 
 who all remained a few yards behind. 
 
 " Well, well," she said impatiently, " hath His
 
 n8 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 Highness returned? Hath he borne the fatigue 
 of the journey well? " 
 
 Most carefully, with studied phrases, furtively 
 watching her face, with the skill and adroitness 
 of an old courtier, Johnnie told his story. At 
 any moment he expected an outburst of temper, but 
 it did not come. To his surprise, the Queen was 
 now in a quiet and reflective mood. She walked 
 up and down the bowling green with him, her 
 ladies standing apart at one edge of it, nodding 
 and whispering to see this young gallant so fa- 
 voured, and wondering what his mission might be. 
 
 The Queen asked Johnnie minute questions 
 about Mr. Peter Lacel's house. Was it well found? 
 Would His Highness find proper accommodation 
 to lie there? Was Mr. Lacel married, and had 
 he daughters? 
 
 Johnnie assured Her Grace that Mr. Lacel was 
 a widower and without children. He could plainly 
 see that the Queen had that fierce jealousy of a 
 woman wedded late. Not only the torturing of 
 other women, but also the stronger and more 
 pervading dislike of a husband living any life, 
 going through any experiences that she herself did 
 not share. At the same time, he saw also that 
 the Queen was doing her very best to overcome 
 such thoughts as these, was endeavouring to as- 
 sume the matron of common sense and to put the 
 evil thing away from her. 
 
 Then, just as the young man was beginning to 
 feel a little embarrassed at the quick patter of
 
 THE HALF TESTOON 119 
 
 questions, wondering if he would be able to be as 
 adequate as hitherto, remembering guiltily where 
 he had met the King the night before, the Queen 
 ceased to speak of her husband. 
 
 She began to ask him of Dr. Rowland Taylor 
 and his end. 
 
 He told her some of the details as quietly as he 
 could, trying to soften the horror which even now 
 overwhelmed him in memory. At one question he 
 hesitated for a moment, mistaking its intent, and 
 the Queen touched him smartly on the arm. 
 
 " No, no," she said, " I don't want to hear of 
 the runagate's torment. He suffered rightly, and 
 doubtless his sufferings were great. But tell me 
 not of them. They are not meet for our ears. 
 Tell me of what he said, and if grace came to him 
 at last." 
 
 He was forced to tell her, as he knew others 
 would tell her afterwards, of the sturdy denial of 
 the martyr till the very end. 
 
 And as he did so, he saw the face, which had 
 been alight with tenderness and anxiety when the 
 King's name was mentioned, gravely judicial and a 
 little disgusted when the actual sufferings of the 
 Archdeacon were touched upon, now become hard 
 and cruel, aflame with bigotry. 
 
 " They shall go," the Queen said, rather to her- 
 self than to him. "They shall be rooted out; 
 they shall die the death, and so may God's most 
 Holy Church be maintained." 
 
 At that, with another and astonishing change of
 
 120 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 mood, she looked at the young man, looked him up 
 and down, saw his long boots powdered with dust, 
 his dress in disorder, him travel-stained and weary. 
 
 ' You have done well," she said, with a very 
 kindly and eminently human smile. " I would 
 that all the younger gentlemen of our old houses 
 were like you, Mr. Commendone. His Highness 
 trusts you and likes you. I myself have reason to 
 think well of you. You are tired by your long 
 ride. Get you to your lodging, and if so you wish 
 it, you shall do as you please to-night, for when 
 His Highness returns I will see that he hath no 
 need of you. And take this from your Queen." 
 
 In her hand the Queen carried a little volume, 
 bound in Nile-green skin, powdered with gold 
 heraldic roses. It was the Tristia et Epistolae ex 
 Ponto of Ovid, which she had been reading. 
 Johnnie sank upon one knee and took the book 
 from the ivory-white and wrinkled hand. 
 
 " Madam," he said, " I will lose my life rather 
 than this gracious gift." 
 
 " Hey ho ! " the Queen answered. " Tell that 
 to your mistress, Mr. Commendone, if you have 
 one. Still, the book is rare, and when you read of 
 the poet's sorrows at Tomi, think sometimes of the 
 giver who and do not doubt it hath many sor- 
 rows of her own. It is an ill thing to rule We 
 sometimes think, Mr. Commendone, but God hath 
 put Us in Our place, and We must not falter." 
 
 She turned. " Lady Paget," she called, " I have 
 done with this young spark for the nonce; come
 
 THE HALF TESTOON 121 
 
 you, and help me pick red roses, red roses, for my 
 chamber. The King loveth deep red roses, and I 
 am told that they are the favoured flower of all 
 noble gentlemen and ladies in the dominions of 
 Spain." 
 
 Bowing deeply once more, and walking back- 
 wards to the edge of the bowling green, Johnnie 
 withdrew. 
 
 He passed through the flower-bordered ways 
 till he came to the gate of the garden. 
 
 Outside the gate this time, on the big gravelled 
 sweep which went in front of the Palace, Chol- 
 mondely was walking up and down, the blood 
 dried upon his cheek, but not washed away. He 
 turned in his sentinel's parade as Johnnie came out, 
 and the two young men looked at each other for 
 a moment in silence. 
 
 ; ' What's it to be? " Johnnie said, with a smile 
 " Lincoln's Inn Fields to-morrow morning? 
 Her Grace will never know of it." 
 
 " I was waiting for you, Johnnie," the other 
 answered. " No, we'll not fight, unless you wish 
 it. Come you to the Common Room, and the 
 pantler shall boil his kettle and brew us some 
 sack." 
 
 Johnnie thrust his arm into the other's and to- 
 gether they passed away from the garden, better 
 friends at that moment than they had ever been 
 before friends destined to be friends for two 
 hours before they were to part forever, though 
 during these hours one of them was to do the
 
 122 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 other a service which would help to alter the whole 
 course of his life. 
 
 They went into the Common Room, and the 
 pantler was summoned and ordered to brew them 
 a bowl of sack simply the hot wine and water, 
 with added spices, which our grandmothers of the 
 present time sipped over their cards, and called 
 Negus. 
 
 Commendone sunk down into a big oak chair, 
 his hands stretched out along the arms, his whole 
 body relaxed in utter weariness, his dark face now 
 grown quite white. There were lines about his 
 eyes which had not been there a few hours before. 
 The eyes themselves were dull and glassy, the lips 
 were flaccid. 
 
 Cholmondely looked at him in amazement. 
 " Go by, Jeronymo ! " he said, using a popular tag, 
 or catch-word, of the time, the " What ho, she 
 bumps ! " of the period, though there were no 
 music-halls in those days to popularise such gems 
 of phrase. ;< What ails you, Esquire? I was 
 frightened also by Her Grace, and, i' faith, 'tis 
 a fearful thing to hear the voice of Majesty in 
 reproof. But thou earnest better out of it than I, 
 though all was well at the end of it for both of us. 
 Is it with you still? " 
 
 Johnnie shook his head feebly. " No," he said, 
 lifting a three-handled silver cup of sack to his 
 lips. 'Twas not that, though I was sorely 
 angered with you, Ambrose ; but I have had a long 
 journey into the country, and have returned but
 
 THE HALF TESTOON 123 
 
 half an hour agone. I have seen much much." 
 He put one hand to his throat, swallowing as he 
 spoke, and then recollecting himself, adding hur- 
 riedly, " Upon affairs of State." 
 
 The other gallant sipped his wine. " Thou 
 need'st not have troubled to tell me that," he said 
 dryly. " When a gentleman bursts into the Privy 
 Garden against all order he is doubtless upon busi- 
 ness of State. What brought you to this doing I 
 do net know, and I don't ask you, Johnnie. All's 
 well that ends well, and I hope we are to be 
 friends." 
 
 " With all my goodwill," Commendone an- 
 swered. " We should have been friends before." 
 
 The other nodded. He was a tall, handsome 
 young man, a little florid in face, but of a high 
 and easy bearing. There was, nevertheless, some- 
 thing infinitely more boyish and ingenuous in his 
 appearance than in that of Commendone. The 
 latter, perhaps of the same age as his companion, 
 was infinitely more unreadable than the other. He 
 seemed older, not in feature indeed, but in manner 
 and capability. Cholmondely was explicit. There 
 was a swagger about him. He was thoroughly 
 typical. Johnnie was cool, collected, and aware. 
 
 " To tell you the truth, Commendone," Chol- 
 mondely said, with a light laugh which rang with 
 perfect sincerity, " to tell you the truth, I have 
 been a little jealous of you since you came to 
 Court. Thou art a newcomer here, and thou hast 
 risen to very high favour; and then, by the Mass!
 
 124 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 thou dost not seem to care about it all. Here am 
 I, a squire of dames, who pursue the pleasures 
 of Venus with great ardour and not ever with suc- 
 cess. But as for thee, John Commendone of Kent, 
 i' faith, the women are quarrelling for thee ! Eyes 
 grow bright when thou comest into the dance. A 
 week agone, at the barrier fight in the great hall, 
 Cicily Thwaites, that I had marked out for myself 
 to be her knight, was looking at thee with the eyes 
 of a duck in a tempest of thunder. So that is that, 
 Johnnie. 'Tis why I have not liked thee much. 
 But we're friends now, and see here " 
 
 He stepped up to the young man in the chair 
 and clapped his hand upon his shoulder. " See 
 here," he went on in a deeper voice, " thou hast 
 well purged the dregs and leaven of my dislike. 
 Thou gav'st me thy sword when hadst disarmed 
 me, and I stood before Her Grace shamed. I don't 
 forget that. I will never forget it. There will 
 never be any savour or smell of malice between 
 thou and me." 
 
 The wine had roused the blood in Commendone's 
 tired veins. He was more himself now. The ter- 
 rible fatigue and nerve tension of the past few 
 hours was giving place to a sense of physical 
 well-being. He looked at the handsome young 
 fellow before him standing up so taut and trim, 
 with the sunlight pouring in upon his face from 
 one of the long open windows, his head thrown 
 slightly back, his lips a little parted, bright with 
 the health of youth, and felt glad that Ambrose
 
 THE HALF TESTOON 125 
 
 Cholmondely was to be his friend. And he would 
 want friends now, for some reason or other why 
 he could not divine he had a curious sense that 
 friends would be valuable to him now. He felt 
 immeasurably older than the other, immeasurably 
 older than he had ever felt before. There was 
 something big and stern coming into his life. The 
 diplomatic, the cautious, trained side of him knew 
 that it must hold out hands to meet all those that 
 were proffered in the name of friend. 
 
 Cholmondely sat down upon the table, swinging 
 his legs backwards and forwards, and stroking 
 the smooth pointed yellow beard which lay upon 
 his ruff, with one long hand covered with rings. 
 
 " And how like you, Johnnie," he said, " your 
 attendance upon His Majesty? From what we 
 of the Queen's Household hear, the garden of 
 that service is not all lavender. Nay, nor ale and 
 skittles neither." 
 
 Johnnie shrugged his shoulders, his face quite 
 expressionless. In a similar circumstance, Am- 
 brose Cholmondely would have gleefully entered 
 into a gossip and discussion, but Commendone was 
 wiser than that, older than his years. He knew 
 the value of silence, the virtue of a still tongue. 
 
 " Sith you ask me, Ambrose," he answered, sip- 
 ping his wine quietly, " I find the service good 
 enough." 
 
 The other grinned with boyish malice. There 
 was a certain rivalry between those English gentle- 
 men who had been attached to King Philip and
 
 126 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 those who were of the Queen's suite. Her Maj- 
 esty was far more inclined to show favour to 
 those whom she had put about her husband than to 
 the members of her own entourage. They were 
 picked men, and the gay young English sparks 
 resented undue and too rapid promotion and fa- 
 vour shown to men of their own standing, while, 
 Catholics as most of them were, there was yet an 
 innate political distrust instilled into them by their 
 fathers and relations of this Spanish Match. And 
 many courtiers thought that, despite all the safe- 
 guards embodied in the marriage contract, the 
 marriage might yet mean a foreign dominion over 
 the realm so fond and anxious was the Queen. 
 
 " Each man to his taste," Cholmondely said. 
 " I don't know precisely what your duties are, 
 Johnnie, but for your own sake I well hope they 
 don't bring you much into the companionship of 
 such gentry as Sir John Shelton, let us say." 
 
 Johnnie could hardly repress a start, though it 
 passed unnoticed by his friend. " Sir John Shel- 
 ton?" he said, wondering if the other knew or 
 suspected anything of the events of the last twenty- 
 four hours. " Sir John Shelton ? It's little enough 
 I have to do with him." 
 
 " And all the better." 
 
 Johnnie's ears were pricked. He was most 
 anxious to get to know what was behind Chol- 
 mondely's words. It would be worth a good deal 
 to him to have a thorough understanding of the 
 general Court view about the King Consort. He
 
 THE HALF TESTOON 127 
 
 affected an elaborate carelessness, even as he did so 
 smiling within himself at the ease by which this 
 boy could be drawn. 
 
 "Why all the better?" he said. "I care not 
 for a bully-rook such as Shelton any more than 
 you, but I have nothing to do with him." 
 
 " Then you make no excursions and sallies late 
 o' nights? " 
 
 Commendone's face was an elaborate mask of 
 wonder. 
 
 " Sallies o' nights? " he said. 
 
 The other young man swung his legs to and fro, 
 and began to chuckle. He caught hold of the 
 edge of the table with both hands, and looked 
 down on Johnnie in the chair with an amused smile. 
 
 " And I had thought you were right in the thick 
 of it," he said. " Thy very innocence, Johnnie, 
 hath prevented thee from seeing what goes on 
 under thy nose. Why, His Highness, Sir John Shel- 
 ton, and Mr. Clarence Attwood leave the Tower 
 night after night and hie them to old Mother 
 Motte's in Duck Lane whenever the Queen hath 
 the vapours and thinketh her lord is in bed, or at 
 his prayers. Phew ! " he made a gesture of dis- 
 gust. " It stinketh all over the Court. I see, 
 Commendone, now why thou knowest nothing of 
 this. The King chooseth for his night-bird friends 
 ruffians like Shelton and Attwood. He would not 
 dare ask one that is a gentleman to wallow in 
 brothels with him. But be assured, I speak en- 
 tirely the truth."
 
 128 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 Johnnie shrugged his shoulders once more. " I 
 know nothing of it," he said, with a quick, side- 
 long glance at Ambrose Cholmondely. " I am not 
 asked to be Esquire on such occasions, at any 
 rate." 
 
 " And wouldst not go if thou wert," Cholmon- 
 dely said, loudly. " Nor would any other gentle- 
 man that I know of only the very scum and 
 vermin of the Court. The game of love, look 
 you, is very well. I am no purist, but I hunt after 
 my own kind, and so should we all do. I don't 
 bemire myself in the stews. Well, there it is. 
 And now, much refreshed by this good wine, and 
 much heartened by our compact, I'll leave thee. 
 I must get back to guard at the garden gate. Her 
 Grace will be leaving anon to dress for supper. 
 Perchance to-night the King will be well enough to 
 make appearance. While thou hast been away, he 
 hath been close in his quarters and very sick. The 
 Spanish priests have been buzzing round him like 
 autumn wasps. And Thorne, the chirurgeon from 
 Wood Street, a very skilful man, hath, they say, 
 been summoned this morning to the Palace. 
 Addio!" 
 
 With a bright smile and a wave of his hand, he 
 flung out of the room. 
 
 Johnnie finished the lukewarm sack in his goblet. 
 He had learnt something that he wished to know, 
 and as he saw his friend pass beyond the windows 
 outside, his feet crunching the gravel and hum- 
 ming a little song, Johnnie smiled bitterly to him-
 
 THE HALF TESTOON 129 
 
 self. He knew rather more about King Philip's 
 illness than most people in England at that mo- 
 ment. And as for Duck Lane well ! he knew 
 something of that also. As the thought came to 
 him, indeed, he shuddered. He remembered the 
 great ham-like face of the procuress who kept this 
 fashionable hell. He heard her voice speaking to 
 him as, very surely, she spoke to but few people 
 who visited her there. He thought of Ambrose 
 Cholmondley's fastidiousness, and he smiled again 
 as he wondered what the Esquire would say if he 
 only knew. 
 
 It was not a merry smile. There was no humour 
 in it. It was bitter, cynical, and fraught with 
 something of fear and expectation. 
 
 He had drunk the wine, and it had re-animated 
 him physically; but he rose now and realised how 
 weary he was in mind, and also for he was always 
 most scrupulous and careful about his dress how 
 stained and travel-worn in appearance. 
 
 He walked out of the Common Room, his rid- 
 ing sword and spurs clanking as he did so, mounted 
 the stairway of the hall and entered the long corri- 
 dor which led to his own room. 
 
 He had nearly got to his doorway when he 
 heard, coming from a little way beyond it, a low, 
 musical, humming voice. He remembered with a 
 start that there was an interview before him which 
 would mean much one way or the other to his 
 private desires. 
 
 During the interview with the Queen and the
 
 i 3 o HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 squabble with Ambrose Cholmondely as also 
 afterwards, when he was drinking in the Common 
 Room he had lost mental sight and grip of his 
 own private wishes and affairs. Now they all 
 came back to him in a flash as he heard the hum- 
 ming voice coming from the end of the corridor 
 
 " Bartl'my Fair! Bartl'my Fair! 
 Swanked I and drank I when I was there; 
 Boiled and roast goose and baiting of bear, 
 Who plays with cudgels at Bartl'my Fair?" 
 
 He turned into his own room and looked round. 
 He saw that some of his accoutrements had been 
 taken away. There were vacant pegs upon the 
 walls. He sat down upon the small low bed, 
 bent forward, clasped his hands upon his knees, 
 and wondered whether he should speak or not. 
 He wondered very greatly whether he dare make 
 a query, start an investigation, nearer to his heart 
 than anything else in the world. 
 
 At Chelmsford he had run out of the Tun Inn 
 and touched the burly man who had killed the 
 maddened stallion on the shoulder. He had 
 brought him into the ordinary, sat him down in 
 a chair, put a great stoup of ale before him, and 
 then begun to talk to him. 
 
 " I know who you are," he said, " very well, 
 because I was one of the gentlemen riding from 
 town to Hadley with your late master, Dr. Tay- 
 lor. I saw you when his Reverence was wishing 
 good-bye outside St. Botolph, his church, and I
 
 THE HALF TESTOON 131 
 
 heard the words your master said eke that you 
 were the ' faithfullest servant that ever a man 
 had.' What do you here now, John Hull? " 
 
 The man had drunk his great stoup of ale very 
 calmly. The daring deed in which he had been 
 engaged had seemed to affect his nerves in no way 
 at all. He was shortish, thick-set, with a broad 
 chest measurement, and a huge thickness between 
 chest and back. His face was tanned to the colour 
 of an old saddle, very keen and alert, and he was 
 clean-shaved, a rather odd and distinguishing 
 feature in a serving-man of that time. 
 
 He told Johnnie that, now he knew, he recog- 
 nised him as one of the company who rode with 
 Dr. Taylor to his death. He had followed the 
 cavalcade almost immediately, and on foot. The 
 way was long, and he had arrived at Chelmsford 
 faint and weary with very little money in his pouch, 
 and been compelled to wait there a time for rest 
 and food. His design was to proceed to Hadley, 
 where he knew he could get work and would be 
 welcome. 
 
 Mr. Peter Lacel, he told Johnnie in the inn, 
 would doubtless employ him, for though a Catho- 
 lic gentleman, he had been a friend of the Rector's 
 in the past. 
 
 'You want work, then?" Johnnie had said. 
 ' You do not wish to be a masterless man, a hedge- 
 dodger, poacher, or a rogue?" 
 
 ' Work I must have, sir," John Hull replied, 
 " but it must be with a good master. Mr. Peter
 
 132 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 Lacel will take me on. Masterless, I should be a 
 very great rogue." 
 
 All this happened in the dining-room of the 
 Chelmsford inn, Johnnie sitting in his chair and 
 looking at the thick, brown-faced man with a cool 
 scrutiny which well disguised the throbbing excite- 
 ment he felt at seeing him at meeting him in this 
 strange, and surely pre-ordained fashion. 
 
 " I'll tell thee who I am," Johnnie had said to 
 the man, naming himself and his state. " That 
 the Doctor spoke of you as he did when going to 
 his death is enough recommendation to me of your 
 fidelity. I need a servant myself, but I would ask 
 you this, John Hull : You are, doubtless, of a cer- 
 tain party. If I took you to my service, how 
 would you square with who and what I am? A 
 led man of mine must be loyal." 
 
 Hull had answered but very little. " Ye can 
 but try me, sir," he said, " but I will come with 
 you to London very joyfully. And I well 
 think " 
 
 He stopped, mumbled something, and stood 
 there, his hands stained with the blood of the horse 
 he had killed, rather clumsy, very much tongue- 
 tied, but with something faithful and even hungry 
 in his eyes. 
 
 Johnnie's own servant was a man called Thumb, 
 a dissolute London fellow, who had been with him 
 for a month, and who had performed his duties 
 in a very perfunctory way. Life had been so quick 
 and vivid, so full of movement and the newness
 
 THE HALF TESTOON 133 
 
 of Court life, that the Groom of the Body had 
 hardly had time to remember the personal discom- 
 fort he endured from the fellow who had been 
 recommended to him by one of the lieutenants of 
 the Queen's Archers. He had always meant to get 
 rid of him at the first opportunity. Now the op- 
 portunity presented itself, though it was not for 
 mere convenience that Commendone had engaged 
 his new servitor. 
 
 He had not the slightest doubt in his own mind 
 that the man was sent to him put in his way 
 by the Power which ruled and controlled the for- 
 tunes of men. Living as he did, and had done for 
 many years, in a quiet, fastidious, but very real 
 dream and communion with things that the hand 
 or body do not touch and see, he had always known 
 within himself that the goings-in and goings-out 
 of those who believe depend not at all upon chance. 
 Like all men of that day, Commendone was deeply 
 religious. His religion had not made him bigoted, 
 though he clung to the Church in which he had 
 been brought up. But, nevertheless, it was very 
 real to him. There were good and bad angels in 
 those days, who fought for the souls of men. The 
 powers of good and evil were invoked. . . . 
 
 The Esquire was certain that this sturdy John 
 Hull had come into his life with a set purpose. 
 
 He was riding back to London with one fixed 
 idea in his mind. One word rang and chimed in 
 his brain the word was "Elizabeth!" 
 
 He had left Chelmsford with John Hull defi-
 
 i 3 4 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 nitely enrolled as his servant, had hired a horse for 
 him from the landlord of the " Tun," and had 
 taken him straight to the Tower. When he had 
 entered within the walls, he had told his man 
 Thumb that he would dismiss him on the morrow, 
 and pay him his wages due. He had told him, 
 moreover, that just as he was hurrying to the 
 Privy Garden with news for the Queen he must 
 take John Hull to his quarters and put him into the 
 way of service. For a moment, Thumb had been 
 inclined to be insolent, but one single look from 
 the dark, cool eyes, one hinted flash of anger upon 
 the oval olive-coloured face, had sent the Londoner 
 humbly to what he had to do; while the fellow 
 looked, not without a certain apprehension, at the 
 thick-set quiet man who followed him to be shown 
 his new duties. . . . 
 
 "The Spanish don came over seas, 
 
 Hey ho nonino ; 
 A Gracious Lady tried to please, 
 Hey ho nonny. 
 
 The country fellows strung their bows, 
 
 Hey ho nonino; 
 What 'twill be, no jack man knows! 
 
 Hey ho nonny." 
 
 Johnnie jumped up from his bed, strode out of 
 the room, walked a yard or two down the corridor, 
 and entered another and larger room, which he 
 shared with three other members of the suite. 
 
 It was the place where they kept their armour, 
 their riding-boots, and some of their swords.
 
 THE HALF TESTOON 135 
 
 As he came in he saw that Hull was sitting upon 
 an overturned barrel, which had held quarels for 
 cross-bows. 
 
 The man had tied a piece of sacking round his 
 waist and over his breeches, and was hard at work. 
 
 Johnnie's three or four damascened daggers 
 were rubbed bright with hog's lard and sand. His 
 extra set of holster pistols gleamed fresh and new 
 : the rust had been all removed from flint-locks 
 and hammers; while the stocks shone with porpoise 
 oil. 
 
 And now the new servant was polishing a high- 
 peaked Spanish saddle, and all the leather trap- 
 pings of a charger, with an inside crust of barley 
 bread and a piece of apple rind. 
 
 Directly the man saw his new master he stood 
 up and made a saluting motion with his hand. 
 
 Johnnie looked at him coldly, though inwardly 
 he felt an extreme pleasure at the sight of his new 
 recruit so lately added to him, so swift to get to 
 work, and withal so blithe about it. 
 
 ' You must not sing the songs I have heard you 
 singing," he said, shortly. " Don't you know 
 where you are? " 
 
 " I had forgotten, sir," the man replied. " I 
 have a plaguey knowledge of rhymes. They do 
 run in my head, and must out." 
 
 ' They must not, I assure you," Johnnie an- 
 swered, " but I like this well enough. Hast got 
 thee to work at once, then." 
 
 " I love it, sir. To handle such stuff as yours
 
 136 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 is rare for a man like me. Look you here, sir " 
 he lifted up a small dagger which he withdrew 
 from its sheath of stag's leather, dyed vermilion 
 " Hear how it ringeth! " 
 
 He twanged the supple blade with his fore- 
 finger, and the little shivering noise rang out into 
 the room. 
 
 The man's keen, brown face was lit up with 
 simple enjoyment. " I love weapons, master," he 
 said, as if in apology. 
 
 Johnnie knew at once that here was the man he 
 had been looking for for weeks. The man who 
 cared, the faithful man; but he knew also, or 
 thought he knew, that it was but poor policy to 
 praise a servant unduly. 
 
 " Well, well," he said, " you can get on with 
 your work. To-morrow morning, I will see you 
 fitted out as becometh my body servant. To- 
 night you will go below with the other men. I 
 have spoken to the intendant that I have a new 
 servant, and you will have your evening-meat and 
 a place to lie in." 
 
 He turned to go. 
 
 With all his soul he was longing to ask this man 
 certain questions. He believed that he had been 
 sent to him to tell him of the whereabouts of the 
 girl to whom, so strangely, at such a dreadful 
 hour, he had vowed his life. But the long con- 
 trol over temperament and emotion which old 
 Father Chilches had imposed upon him the very 
 qualities which made him, already, a successful
 
 THE HALF TESTOON 137 
 
 courtier stood him in good stead now. The 
 dominant desire of his heart was to be repressed. 
 He knew very well, he realised perfectly clearly, 
 how intimate a member of Dr. Taylor's house- 
 hold this faithful servant " the faithfullest serv- 
 ant that ever man had " must have been. And 
 knowing it, he felt sure that the time was not yet 
 come to ask John Hull any questions. He must 
 arouse no suspicions within the man's mind. Hull 
 had entered his service gladly, and promised to be 
 more than adequate and worthy of any trust that 
 could be reposed in him. But he had seen John- 
 nie riding away with his beloved master, one of 
 those who had taken him to torture and death. 
 The very shrewdness and cleverness imprinted 
 upon the fellow's face were enough to say that he 
 would at once take alarm at any questioning about 
 Dr. Taylor's family, at this moment. 
 
 John Hull scraped with his foot and made a 
 clumsy bow as his new master turned away. Then, 
 suddenly, he seemed to remember something. His 
 face changed in expression. 
 
 " God forgive me, sir," he said, " indeed, I had 
 near forgot it. When I went into your chamber 
 and took this harness for cleaning, there was a 
 letter lying there for you. I can read, sir; Dr. 
 Taylor taught me to read somewhat. I took the 
 letter, fearing that it might be overlooked or e'en 
 taken away, for there are a plaguey lot of serving- 
 men in this passage. 'Tis here, sir, and I crave 
 you pardon me for forgetting of it till now."
 
 i 3 8 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 He handed Johnnie a missive of thick yellow- 
 brown paper such as was woven from linen rags 
 at Arches Smithfield Factory of that day. The 
 letter was folded four-square and tied round with 
 a cord of green silk, and where the threads 
 intersected at the back was a broad seal of 
 dull red wax, bearing the sign of a lamb in its 
 centre. 
 
 Johnnie pulled off the cord, the wax cracked, 
 and the thick yellow paper rustled as he pulled 
 it open. 
 
 This was the letter: 
 
 " HONOURED SIR, This from my house in 
 Chepe. Thy honoured father who hath lately left 
 the City hath left with me a sum of money which 
 remaineth here at your charges, and for your dis- 
 posal thereof as you may think fit. This shall be 
 sent to you upon your letter and signature, to- 
 morrow an you so wish. 
 
 " Natheless, should you come to my house to- 
 night I will hand it into your keeping in gold 
 coin. I will say that Sir Henry expressed hope 
 that you might care to come to my poor house 
 which has long been the agency for Commendone. 
 For your father's son, sir, there will be very open 
 welcome. 
 
 " Your obt. svt., 
 
 " and good friend, 
 
 " ROBERT CRESSEMER, 
 " Alderman of ye City of London."
 
 THE HALF TESTOON 139 
 
 Commendone read the letter through with care. 
 
 His father had been most generous since John- 
 nie had arrived at Court, and the young man was 
 in no need of money. Sir Henry had, indeed, 
 hinted that further supplies would be sent shortly, 
 and he must have arranged it with the Alderman 
 ere he left the City. 
 
 Johnnie sighed. His father had always been 
 good to him. No desire of his had ever been left 
 ungratified. Many sons of noblemen at Court had 
 neither such a generous allowance nor perfect 
 equipment as he had. He never thought of his 
 father and the old house in Kent without a little 
 pang of regret. Was it worth it all ? Were not the 
 silent woods of Commendone, with their shy forest 
 creatures, better far than this stately citadel and 
 home of kings? 
 
 His life had been so tranquil in the past. The 
 happy days had gone by with the regularity of 
 some slow-turning wheel. Now all was stress and 
 turmoil. Dark and dreadful doings encompassed 
 him. He was afloat upon strange waters, and there 
 was no pilot aboard, nor did he know what port 
 he should make, what unknown coast-line should 
 greet his troubled eyes when dawn should come. 
 
 These thoughts were but fleeting, as he sat in 
 his bedroom, where he had taken the letter from 
 Mr. Cressemer. He sent them away with an effort 
 of will. The past life was definitely over; now 
 he must gather himself together and consider the 
 immediate future without vain regrets.
 
 i 4 o HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 As he mounted the stairs from the Common 
 Room he had it in mind to change from his riding 
 costume and sleep. He needed sleep. He wanted 
 to enter that mysterious country so close to the 
 frontiers of death, to be alone that he might think 
 of Elizabeth. He knew now how men dreamed 
 and meditated of their loves, why lovers loved 
 to be alone. 
 
 He held the letter in his hand, looking down at 
 the firm, clear writing with lack-lustre eyes. What 
 should he do? sleep, lose himself in happy fancies, 
 or go to the house of the Alderman? He had 
 no Court duties that night. 
 
 He knew Robert Cressemer's name well. Every 
 one knew it in London, but Commendone had 
 heard it mentioned at home for many years. Mr. 
 Cressemer, who would be the next Lord Mayor, 
 was one of those merchant princes who, ever since 
 the time of that great commercial genius, Henry 
 VII, had become such an important factor in the 
 national life. 
 
 For many years the Alderman, the foundation 
 of whose fortune had been the export of English 
 wool, had been in intimate relations, both of busi- 
 ness and friendship, with Sir Henry Commendone. 
 The knight's wool all went to the warehouses in 
 Chepe. He had shares in the fleet of trading ves- 
 sels belonging to Cressemer, which supplied the 
 wool-fairs of Holland and the Netherlands. The 
 childlike and absolutely uneconomic act of Edward 
 VI which endeavoured to make all interest illegal,
 
 THE HALF TESTOON 141 
 
 and enacted that " whoever shall henceforth lend 
 any sum of money for any manner of usury, in- 
 crease, lucre, gain or interest to be had, received, 
 or hoped for, over and above the sum so lent," 
 should suffer serious penalties, had been repealed. 
 
 Banking had received a tremendous impetus, 
 Robert Cressemer had adventured largely in it, 
 and Sir Henry Commendone was a partner with 
 him in more than one enterprise. 
 
 Of all this Johnnie knew nothing. He had not 
 the slightest idea how rich his father was, and 
 knew nothing of the fortune that would one day 
 be his. 
 
 He did know, however, that Mr. Cressemer was 
 a very important person indeed, the admired and 
 trusted confidant of Sir Henry, and a man of 
 enormous influence. Such a letter, coming from 
 such a man, was hardly to be neglected by a young 
 courtier. Johnnie knew how, if one of his col- 
 leagues had received it, it would have been shown 
 about in the Common Room, what rosy visions of 
 fortune and paid bills it would invoke ! 
 
 He read the letter again. There was no need 
 to go to Mr. Cressemer's house that night if he 
 did not wish to do so. He was weary, he wanted 
 to be alone to taste and savour this new thing 
 within him that was called love. Yet something 
 kept urging him to go, nevertheless. He could 
 not quite have said what it was, though again the 
 sense that he stood very much alone and friends 
 were good especially such a powerful one as this
 
 i 4 2 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 crossed his mind. And, as an instance of the 
 quite unconscious but very real revolution that had 
 taken place in his thoughts during the last forty 
 hours, it is to be noted that he did feel the need of 
 friends and supporters. 
 
 Yet he was high in favour with the King and 
 Queen, envied by every one, certain of rapid ad- 
 vancement. 
 
 But he no longer thought anything of this. 
 Those great ones were on one side of a great 
 something which he would not or could not define. 
 He was on the other, he and the girl with eyes of 
 crushed sapphire and a red mouth of sorrow. 
 
 It would be politic to go. ..." I'll put it to 
 chance," he said to himself at length. " How doth 
 Ovid have it? . . . 
 
 " ' Casus ubique valet ; semper tibi pendent hantus : 
 Quo minime credas gurgite, piscis erit.' 
 
 I remember Father Chilches' translation: 
 
 " ' There's always room for chance, so drop thy hook, 
 A fish there'll be when least for it you look.' 
 
 Here goes ! " 
 
 He opened his purse to find a coin with which 
 to settle the matter, and poured out the contents 
 into his palm. There were eight or nine gold 
 sovereigns of Henry VIII, beautiful coins with 
 " Hiberma Rex " among the other titles, which 
 were still known as " double ryals," three gold 
 ducats, coined in that year, with the Queen and
 
 THE HALF TESTOON 143 
 
 King Consort vis-a-vis and one crown above the 
 heads of both, and one little silver half testoon. 
 
 He put the gold back in his purse and held out 
 the small coin upon his hand. " What is't to be, 
 little testoon? " he said whimsically, looking at the 
 big M and crown, " bed and thoughts of her, or 
 the worshipful Master Cressemer and, I don't 
 doubt, a better supper than I'm likely to get in the 
 .Tower? ' M,' I go." 
 
 He spun the coin, and it came down with the 
 initial uppermost. He laughed and flung it on to a 
 shelf, calling John Hull to help him change his 
 dress. 
 
 Nothing told him that in that spin he had de- 
 cided or let it better be said there was decided 
 for him the whole course of his life. At that 
 actual moment ! 
 
 Thus the intrusion of the little testoon.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE FINDING OF ELIZABETH 
 
 AT a little before nine in the late twilight, Com- 
 mendone left the Tower. He was attended by 
 John Hull, whom he had armed with the short 
 cutlass-shaped sword which serving-men were al- 
 lowed to wear. 
 
 He might be late, and the City was no very safe 
 place in those days for people returning home 
 through the dark. Johnnie knew, moreover, that 
 he would be carrying a considerable sum in gold 
 with him, and it was as well to have an attendant. 
 
 They walked towards Chepe, Johnnie in front, 
 his man a yard or so behind. It was summer- 
 time, but even in summer London went to bed 
 early, and the prentices were returning home from 
 their cudgel-play and shooting at the butts in Fins- 
 bury fields. 
 
 The sky was a faint primrose above the spires 
 of the town. The sun, that tempest of fire, had 
 sunk, but still left long lines in the sky, lines which 
 looked as if they had been drawn by a vermilion 
 pencil; while, here and there, were locks, friths, 
 and islands of gold and purple floating in the sky, 
 billowed and upheaved into an infinity of distant 
 glory. 
 
 144
 
 FINDING OF ELIZABETH 145 
 
 They went through the narrow streets beneath 
 the hundreds of coloured signs which hung from 
 shop and warehouse. 
 
 At a time when the ordinary porter, prentice, 
 and messenger could hardly read, each place of 
 business must signify and locate itself by a sign. 
 A merchant of those days did not send a letter 
 by hand to a business house, naming it to the mes- 
 senger. He told the man to go to the sign of the 
 Three Cranes, the Gold Pig on a black ground, 
 the Tower and Dragon in such and such a street. 
 
 London was not lit on a summer night at this 
 hour. In the winter, up to half-past eight or so the 
 costers' barrows with their torches provided the 
 only illumination. After that all was dark, and in 
 summer there was no artificial light at all when the 
 day had gone. 
 
 They came up to the cross standing to the east 
 of Wood Street, which was silhouetted against the 
 last gleams of day in the sky. Its hexagonal form 
 of three sculptured tiers, which rose from one 
 another like the divisions of a telescope, cut out 
 a black pattern against the coloured background. 
 The niches with their statues, representing many 
 of the Sovereigns of England, were all in grey 
 shadow, but the large gilt cross which surmounted 
 it still caught something of the evening fires. 
 
 To the east there was the smaller tower of 
 octagonal form, which was the Conduit, and here 
 also the top was bathed in light a figure standing 
 upon a gilded cone and blowing a horn.
 
 i 4 6 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 The gutters in the streets were dry now, for the 
 rain storm of two days ago had not lasted long, 
 and they were sticky and odorous with vegetable 
 and animal filth. 
 
 The two men walked in the centre of the street, 
 as was wiser in those days, for as still happens in 
 the narrow quarters of old French towns to-day 
 garret windows were open, and pails were emptied 
 with but little regard for those who were passing 
 by. 
 
 When they came into Chepe itself, things were 
 a little less congested, for great houses were built 
 there, and Johnnie walked more quickly. Many 
 of the houses of the merchant princes were but 
 little if at all inferior to the mansions of the nobility 
 at that time. They stood often enough in gloomy 
 and unfrequented courts, and were accessible only 
 by inconvenient passages, but once arrived at, their 
 interiors were of extraordinary comfort and mag- 
 nificence. 
 
 Johnnie knew that Mr. Cressemer's house was 
 hereabouts, but was not certain of the precise loca- 
 tion. He looked up through the endless succession 
 of Saracens' heads, Tudor roses, blue bears, and 
 golden lambs, but could see nothing in the growing 
 dark. He turned round and beckoned to John 
 Hull. 
 
 ' You know the City? " he said. 
 
 ' Very well, master," the man answered, look- 
 ing at him, so Johnnie thought, with a very strange 
 expression.
 
 FINDING OF ELIZABETH 147 
 
 " Then, certes, you can tell me the house of 
 Master Robert Cressemer, the Alderman," said 
 Johnnie. 
 
 Hull gave a sudden, violent start. His eyes, 
 always keen and alert, now grew wide. 
 
 " Sir," he said, " I know that house very well, 
 but what do you there?" 
 
 Johnnie stared at him in amazement for a 
 moment. Then the blood mantled in his cheeks. 
 
 "Sirrah," he said, "what mean you by this? 
 What is it to you where I go or what I do? " 
 
 There was nobody in their immediate vicinity 
 at the moment, and the thick-set serving-man, by 
 a quick movement, placed himself in front of his 
 master, his right hand upon the newly-provided 
 sword, his left playing with the hilt of the long 
 knife which had served him so well at Chelmsford. 
 
 " I said I would be loyal to ye, master," the 
 fellow growled, " but I see now that it cannot be. 
 I will be no servant of those who do burn and 
 slay innocent folk, and shalt not to the Alderman's 
 if thou goest with evil intent." 
 
 An enormous surprise almost robbed the young 
 man of his anger. 
 
 Was this man, this " faithfullest servant," some 
 brigand or robber, or assassin, in disguise? What 
 could it mean? His hand was upon his sword in 
 a moment, it was ready to flash out, and the 
 accomplished fencer who had been trained in every 
 art and trick of sword-play, knew well that the 
 strength of the thick-set man before him would
 
 i 4 8 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 avail nothing. But he waited a moment, really 
 more interested and surprised than angered or 
 alarmed. 
 
 " I don't want to kill you, my good man," he 
 said, " and so I will give you leave to speak. But 
 by the Mass! this is too much; an you don't ex- 
 plain yourself, in the kennel and carrion you lie." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir," Hull answered, his 
 face taking into it a note of apology, " but you 
 come from the Court; you rode with those bloody 
 villains that did take my dear master that was to 
 his death. Are you not now going with a like 
 intent to the house of Mr. Cressemer?" 
 
 " I don't know," Johnnie answered, " why I 
 should explain to you the reason for my visit to His 
 Worship, but despite this gross impudence, I will 
 give you a chance, for I have learnt to know that 
 there is often an explanation behind what seemeth 
 most foul. The Alderman is one of the oldest 
 and best friends my father, the Knight of Kent, 
 hath ever had. The letter thou gavest me two 
 hours agone was from His Worship bidding me to 
 supper. And now, John Hull, what hast to say 
 before I slit you ? " 
 
 For answer, John Hull suddenly fell upon his 
 knees, and held out his hands in supplication. 
 
 " Sir," he said, in a humble voice, " I crave that 
 of your mercy and gentleness you will forgive me, 
 and let this pass. Sure, I knew you for a gallant 
 gentleman, and no enemy to my people when first 
 I saw you. I marked you outside St. Botolph's
 
 FINDING OF ELIZABETH 149 
 
 Church, and knew you again at Chelmsford. But 
 I thought you meant harm. ..." 
 
 His voice died away in an inarticulate mumble. 
 He seemed enormously sincere and penitent, and 
 dreadfully embarrassed also by some knowledge 
 or thought at the back of his mind, something 
 which he feared, or was unable to disclose. 
 
 Johnnie's heart was beating strangely, though 
 he did not know why. He seemed to tread into 
 something strange and unexpected. Life was full 
 of surprises now. 
 
 All he said was : " Make a fool of thyself no 
 longer, John Hull; get up and lead me to His 
 Worship's. I forgive thee. But mark you, I shall 
 require the truth from you anon." 
 
 The man scrambled up, made a clumsy bow, and 
 hurried on for a few yards, until a narrow opening 
 between two great stacks of houses disclosed itself. 
 He walked down it, his shoes echoing upon a pave- 
 ment stone. Johnnie followed him, and they came 
 out into a dark courtyard in which a single lantern 
 of glass and iron hung over a massive door studded 
 with nails. 
 
 " This is His Worship's house," said John Hull. 
 
 Johnnie went up to the door and beat upon it 
 with the handle of his dagger, standing on the 
 single step before it. In less than half a minute, 
 the door was opened and a serving-man in livery of 
 yellow stood before him. 
 
 " Mr. John Commendone," Johnnie said, " to see 
 His Worship the Alderman upon an invitation."
 
 150 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 The man bowed, opened the door still wider, 
 and invited Johnnie into a large flagged hall, lit 
 by three silver lamps. 
 
 " Worshipful sir," he said, " my master told 
 me that perchance you would be a-coming this 
 night, and he awaits you in the parlour." 
 
 " This is my servant," Johnnie said to the man, 
 and even as he did so, he saw a look of immense 
 surprise, mingled with welcome, upon the fellow's 
 face. 
 
 " I will take him to the kitchen, Your Worship," 
 the man said, and as he spoke, a footman came 
 out of a door on the opposite side of the hall, 
 bowed low to Johnnie, and led him up a broad 
 flight of stairs. 
 
 Commendone shrugged his shoulders. There 
 were mysteries here, it seemed, but so far they 
 were none of his, and at any rate he was within the 
 house of a friend. 
 
 At first there was no evidence of any particular 
 luxury, and Johnnie was surprised. Though he 
 had little idea how wealthy his own father had 
 become, the great house of Commendone was a 
 very stately, well-found place. He knew, more- 
 over, that Mr. Robert Cressemer was one of the 
 richest citizens of London, and he had heard his 
 friends talking at Court of the state and splendour 
 of some of those hidden mansions which clustered 
 in the environs of Chepeside, Wood Street, and 
 Basinghall Street. 
 
 He had not gone much farther in his progress
 
 FINDING OF ELIZABETH 151 
 
 when he knew. He passed through a pair of fold- 
 ing doors, inlaid with rare woods a novelty to 
 him at that time, for he had never travelled in 
 Italy or France. He walked down a broad corri- 
 dor, the walls hung with pictures and the floor 
 tesselated with wood, and was shown by another 
 footman who was standing at a door at the end 
 of the corridor into a superb room, wainscoted 
 with cedar up to half of its height, and above it 
 adorned with battles of gods and giants in fresco. 
 The room was brilliantly lit by candles, at fre- 
 quent intervals all round the panelled walls, and 
 close to the gilded beading which divided them 
 from the frescoes above, were arms of some black 
 wood or stone, which they were he could not have 
 said, stretched out, and holding silver sconces in 
 which the candles were set. 
 
 It was as though gigantic Moors or Nubians 
 had thrown their arms through the wall to hold 
 up the light which illuminated this large and 
 splendid place. At one end of the room was a 
 high carved fire-place, and though it was summer, 
 some logs of green elm smouldered and crackled 
 upon the hearth, though the place was cool enough. 
 
 Seated by the fireside was a stout, short, elderly 
 man, with a pointed grey beard, and heavy black 
 eyebrows from beneath which large, slightly promi- 
 nent, and very alert eyes looked out. His hair 
 was white, and apparently he was bald, because a 
 skull cap of black velvet covered his head. He 
 wore a ruff and a long surtout of wool dyed crim-
 
 i 5 2 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 son, and pointed here and there with braid of dark 
 green and thin lace of gold. A belt of white 
 leather was round his middle, and from it hung 
 a chatelaine of silver by his right side, from which 
 depended a pen case and some ivory tablets. On 
 his left side, Johnnie noticed that a short service- 
 able dagger was worn. His trunk hose were of 
 black, his shoes easy ones of Spanish leather with 
 crimson rosettes upon the instep. 
 
 " Mr. John Commendone," said the footman. 
 
 Mr. Cressemer rose from his seat, his shrewd, 
 capable face lighting up with welcome. 
 
 " Ah," he said, " so thou hast come to see me, 
 Mr. Commendone. 'Tis very good of thee, and 
 a welcome sight to eyes which have looked upon 
 your father so often." 
 
 He went up to the slim young man as the foot- 
 man closed the door, and shook him warmly by the 
 hand, looking him in the face meanwhile with a 
 keen wise scrutiny, which made Johnnie feel young, 
 inexperienced, a little embarrassed. 
 
 He felt he was being summed up, judged and 
 weighed, appraised in the most kindly fashion, but 
 by one who did not easily make a mistake in his 
 estimate of men. 
 
 At Court, King Philip had regarded him with 
 cold interest, the Queen herself with piercing and 
 more lively regard. Since his arrival in London, 
 Johnnie had been used to scrutinies. But this was 
 different from any other he had known. It was 
 eminently human and kindly first of all, but in the
 
 FINDING OF ELIZABETH 153 
 
 second place it was more searching, more real, than 
 any other he had hitherto undergone. In short, 
 a king or queen looked at a courtier from a certain 
 point of view. Would he serve their ends? Was 
 he the right man in the right place? Had they 
 chosen well? 
 
 There was nothing of this now. It was all kind- 
 liness mingled with a grave curiosity, almost with 
 hope. 
 
 Johnnie, who was much taller than Mr. Cres- 
 semer, could not help smiling a little, as the bearded 
 man looked at him so earnestly, and it was his 
 smile that broke the silence, and made them friends 
 from that very moment. 
 
 The Alderman put his left hand upon Johnnie's 
 shoulder. 
 
 " Lad," he said, and his voice was the voice 
 of a leader of men, " lad, I am right glad to see 
 thee in my poor house. Art thy father's son, and 
 that is enough for me. Come, sit you down t'other 
 side of the fire. Come, come." 
 
 With kindly geniality the merchant bustled his 
 guest to a chair opposite his own, and made him 
 sit. Then he stood upon a big hearthrug of bear- 
 skin, rubbed his hands, and chuckled. 
 
 " When I heard ye announced," he said, " I 
 thought to myself, ' Here's another young gallant 
 of the Court keen on his money; he hath lost no 
 time in calling for it.' But now I see thee, and 
 know thee for what thou art for it is my boast, 
 and a true one, that I was never deceived in man
 
 i 5 4 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 yet I see my apprehensions were quite un- 
 founded." 
 
 Johnnie bowed. For a moment or two he could 
 hardly speak. There was something so homelike, 
 so truly kind, in this welcome that his nerves, ter- 
 ribly unstrung by all he had gone through of late, 
 were almost upon the point of breakdown. 
 
 This was like home. This was the real thing. 
 iThis was not the Court and here before him he 
 knew very well was a man not only good and 
 kindly, but resolute and great. 
 
 " Now, I'll tell thee what we'll do, Master 
 Johnnie, sith thou hast come to me so kindly. We 
 will sip a little water of Holland I'll wager 
 you've tasted nothing like it, for it cometh straight 
 from the English Exchange house at Antwerp 
 and then we will to supper, where you will meet 
 my dear sister, Mistress Catherine Cressemer, 
 who hath been the long companion of my wid- 
 owerhood, and ordereth this my house for 
 me." 
 
 He turned to where a square sheet of copper 
 hung from a peg upon a cord of twisted purple 
 silk. Taking up the massive silver pen case at 
 the end of his chatelaine, he beat upon the gong, 
 and the copper thunder echoed through the big 
 room. 
 
 A man entered immediately, to whom Mr. Cres- 
 semer gave orders, and then sat himself down upon 
 the other side of the fire. 
 
 " Your father," he said confidentially, " came
 
 FINDING OF ELIZABETH 155 
 
 to me after he left you in the Tower the morning 
 before this. He was very pleased with what he 
 saw of you, Master Johnnie, and what he heard 
 of you also. Art going to be a big man in affairs 
 without doubt. I wish I had met ye before. I 
 have been twice to Commendone Park. Once when 
 thou wert a little rosy thing of two year old or 
 less, and the Senora Holy Mary give her grace! 
 had thee upon her knee. I was staying with 
 the Knight. And then again when Father Chil- 
 ches was thy tutor, and thou must have been four- 
 teen year or more. I was at the Park for three 
 days. But thou wert away with thy aunt, Miss 
 Commendone, of Wanstone Court, and I saw noth- 
 ing of thee." 
 
 " So you knew my mother," Johnnie said 
 eagerly. 
 
 " Aye, that I did, and a very gracious lady she 
 was, Master Commendone. I will tell thee of 
 her, and thy house in those days, at supper. My 
 sister will be well pleased to hear it also. Mean- 
 while " he sipped at the white liqueur which 
 the servant had brought, and motioned Johnnie 
 towards his own thin green glass with little golden 
 spirals running through it " meanwhile, tell me 
 how like you the Court life? " 
 
 Johnnie started. They were the exact words of 
 his father. " I am getting on very well," he said 
 in reply. 
 
 " So I hear, and am well pleased," the Alder- 
 man answered. " You have everything in your
 
 156 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 favour a knowledge of Spanish, a pleasant pres- 
 ence, and trained to the usage of good society. 
 But, though you may not think it, I have influence, 
 even at Court, though it is in no ways apparent. 
 Tell me something of your aims, and your views, 
 and I shall doubtless be able to help your advance- 
 ment. There are ticklish times coming, be certain 
 of that, and my experience may be of great service 
 to you. Her Grace, God bless her! is, I fear I 
 speak to you as man to man, Mr. Commendone 
 too keen set and determined upon the Papal Su- 
 premacy for the true welfare of this realm. I am 
 Catholic. I have always been Catholic. But doc- 
 trine, and a purely political dominion from Rome, 
 aye, or from Spain either, is not what we of the 
 City, and who control the finances of the kingdom 
 much more than less, desire or wish to see. After 
 all, Mr. Commendone, I trust I make myself 
 clearly understood to you, and that you are of the 
 same temper and mind as your father and myself; 
 after all is loudly set and perchance badly done, 
 we have to look to the upholding of the realm, 
 inside and out, rather than to be fine upon points 
 of doctrine." 
 
 He leant forward in his seat with great earnest- 
 ness, clasped his right hand, upon the little finger 
 of which was a great ring, with a cut seal of 
 emerald, and brought it down heavily upon the 
 table by his side. 
 
 " I believe," he said, " in the Mass, and if I 
 were asked to die for my belief, that would I do.
 
 FINDING OF ELIZABETH 157 
 
 I would do it very reluctantly, Master John. I 
 would evade the necessity for doing it in every 
 way I knew. But if I were set down in front of 
 judges or eke inquisitors, and asked to say that 
 when the priest hath said the words of consecration, 
 the elements are not the very true body of Our 
 Lord Jesus, then I would die for that belief. And 
 of the Invocation of Saints, and of the greatest 
 saint of all Our Lady I see no harm in it, but 
 a very right and pleasant practice. For, look you, 
 if these are indeed, as we believe and know cluster- 
 ing around the throne of God, Which is the Holy 
 Trinity, then indeed they must hear our prayers, 
 if we believe truly in the Communion of Saints; 
 and hearing them, being in high favour in heaven, 
 their troubles past and they glorified, certes, we 
 down here may well think their voices will be heard 
 around the Throne. That is true Catholic doc- 
 trine as I see it. But of the power of the Bishop 
 of Rome to direct and interfere in the honest inter- 
 nal affairs of a country well, I snap my fingers 
 at it. And of the power of the priesthood, which 
 is but part of the machinery by which His Holi- 
 ness endeavoureth to accrue to himself all earthly 
 power, at that also I spit. From my standpoint, a 
 priest is an ordained man of God; his function is 
 to say Mass, to consecrate the elements, and so to 
 bring God near to us upon the altar. But of your 
 confessions, your pryings into family life, your 
 temporal dominion, I have the deepest mistrust. 
 And also, I think, that the cause of Holy Church
 
 1 58 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 would be much better served if its priests were 
 allowed for such of them as wished it to be mar- 
 ried men. A man is a man, and God hath given 
 him his natural attributes. I am not really learned, 
 nor am I well read in the history of the world, but 
 I have looked into it enough, Master Commen- 
 done, to know that God hath ordained that men 
 should take women in marriage and rear up chil- 
 dren for the glory of the Lord and the welfare of 
 the State. Mark you " his face became striated 
 with lines of contempt and dislike " mark you, 
 this celibacy is to be the thing which will destroy 
 the power of the sacrificing priest in the eyes of 
 all before many hundred years have passed. I 
 shall not see it, thou wilt not see it. We are good 
 Church of England men now, but what I say will 
 come to pass, and then God himself only knoweth 
 what anarchs and deniers, what blasphemers and 
 runagates will hold the world. 
 
 " Her Grace," he went on, " believeth that as 
 Moses ordered blasphemers to be put to death, so 
 she thinketh it the duty of a Christian prince to 
 eradicate the cockle from the fold of God's 
 Church, to cut out the gangrene that it may not 
 spread to the sounder parts. But Her Grace is a 
 woman that hath been much sequestered all her 
 life till now. She cometh to the throne, and is but 
 I trust I speak no treason, Mr. Commendone 
 a tool and instrument of the priests from Spain, 
 and the man from Spain also who is her lord. 
 Why! if only the Church in this realm could go
 
 FINDING OF ELIZABETH 159 
 
 on as King Henry started it not a new Church, 
 mind you, but a Church which hath thrown off 
 an unnecessary dominion from Italy if it could 
 go on as under the reign of the little King Edward 
 was set out and promised very well, 'twould be 
 truly Catholic still, and the priests of the Church 
 would be all married men and citizens within 
 the State, with a stake in civil affairs, and so by 
 reason of their spiritual power and civil obliga- 
 tions, the very bulwark of society." 
 
 Johnnie listened intently, nodding now and then 
 as the Alderman made a point, and as he himself 
 realised the value of it. 
 
 " Look you, Master Commendone," His Wor- 
 ship continued, " look you, only yesterday a worthy 
 clergyman, whom I knew and loved, a man of his 
 inches, a shrewd and clever gentleman of good 
 birth, was haled from the City down to his own 
 parish and burnt as a heretic. Heretic doubtless 
 the good man was. He would be living now if he 
 had not denied the blessed and comforting truth of 
 Transubstantiation before that bloodstained wolf, 
 the Bishop of London. The man I speak of was 
 a good man, and though he was mistaken on that 
 issue, he would, under kindlier auspices, doubtless 
 have returned to the central truth of our religion. 
 He was married, and had lived in honourable wed- 
 lock with his wife for many years. She was a 
 lady from Wales, and a sweet woman. But it was 
 his marriage as much as any other thing about him 
 that brought him to his death."
 
 160 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 The Alderman's voice sank into something very 
 like a whisper. " One of my men," he said, " was 
 riding down with the Sheriff of London to Hadley, 
 where Dr. Taylor, he of whom I speak, suffered 
 this very morning. At five this afternoon my man 
 was back, and told me how the good doctor died. 
 He died with great constancy, very much, Mr. 
 Commendone, as one of the old saints that the 
 Romans did use so cruelly in the early years of Our 
 Lord's Church. Yet, as something of a student of 
 affairs and Dr. Taylor is not the first good heretic 
 who hath died rather than recant I see that the 
 married clergy suffer with the most alacrity. And 
 why? Because, as I see it, they are bearing testi- 
 mony to the validity and sanctity of their marriage. 
 The honour of their wives and children is at stake; 
 the desire of leaving them an unsullied name and 
 a virtuous example, combined with a sense of re- 
 ligious duty. And thus the heart derives strength 
 from the very ties which in other circumstances 
 might well tend to weaken it. 
 
 " I am in mourning to-night, mourning in my 
 heart, Mr. Commendone, for a good, mistaken 
 friend who hath suffered death." 
 
 As his voice fell, the Alderman was looking 
 sadly into the red embers of the fire with the music 
 of a deep sadness and regret in his voice. He 
 wasn't an emotional man at all by nature that is 
 Johnnie saw it at once. But he saw also that his 
 host was very deeply moved. Johnnie rose from 
 his chair.
 
 FINDING OF ELIZABETH 161 
 
 " You are telling me no news at all, Mr. Alder- 
 man," he said. " I had orders, and I was one of 
 those who rode with Sir John Shelton and the 
 Sheriff to take Dr. Taylor to the stake at Aldham 
 Common." 
 
 Mr. Cressemer started violently. 
 
 " Mother of God ! " he said, " did you see that 
 done?" 
 
 Johnnie nodded. He could not trust himself to 
 speak. 
 
 The Alderman's cry of horror brought home 
 to him almost for the first time not the terror of 
 what he had seen that he had realised long ago 
 but a sense of personal guilt, a disgust with himself 
 that he should have been a participator in such a 
 deed, a spectator, however pitying. 
 
 He felt unclean. 
 
 Then he said in a low voice : " What I tell you, 
 Mr. Cressemer, will, I know, remain as a secret 
 between us. I feel I am not betraying any trust in 
 telling you. I am, as you know, attached to the 
 person of His Majesty, and I have been admitted 
 into great confidence both by him and Her Grace 
 the Queen. The King rode to Hadley disguised 
 as a simple cavalier, and I was with him as his 
 attendant." 
 
 He stopped short, feeling that the explanation 
 was bald and unsufficing. 
 
 The Alderman stepped up to Johnnie and put 
 his hand upon his arm. " Poor lad, poor lad," 
 he said in tones of deepest pity. " I grieve in that
 
 1 62 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 thou hadst to witness such a thing in the following 
 of thy duty." 
 
 " I had thought," the young man faltered, his 
 assurance deserting him for a moment at the words 
 of this reverend and broad-souled man, " I thought 
 you would think me stained in some wise, Mr. 
 Cressemer. I . . ." 
 
 " Whist! " the elder man answered impatiently. 
 " Have no such foolish thoughts. Am I not a 
 man of affairs? D& 1 not know what discipline 
 means? But this gives me great cause for thought. 
 You have confided in me, Mr. Commendone, and 
 so likewise will I in you. This morning the Doc- 
 tor's wife, his little son, and little daughter Mary, 
 set off for the Marches of Wales with a party of 
 my men and their baggage. Mistress Taylor was 
 born a Rhyader, of a good family in Conway town. 
 Her brother liveth there, and all her friends are 
 of Wales. It was as well that the dame should 
 leave the City at once, for none knoweth what will 
 
 be done to the relations of heretics at this time 
 
 Why, man ! Thou art white as linen, thy hand 
 shakes. What meaneth it? " 
 
 Johnnie, in truth, was a strange sight as he stood 
 in front of his host. All his composure was gone. 
 His eyes burnt in a white face, his lips were dry 
 and parted, there was an almost terrible inquiry 
 in his whole aspect and manner. 
 
 'Tis nothing," he managed to say in a hoarse 
 voice, which he hardly knew for his own. " Pr'y- 
 thee continue, sir."
 
 FINDING OF ELIZABETH 163 
 
 Mr. Cressemer gave the young man a keen, 
 questioning glance before he went on speaking. 
 Then he said: 
 
 " As I tell you, these members of the good Doc- 
 tor's family are now safely on their way, and God 
 grant them rest and peace in their new life. They 
 will want for nothing. But the Doctor's other 
 daughter, Mistress Elizabeth, was not his own 
 daughter, but was adopted by him when she was 
 but a little child. The girl is a very sweet and good 
 girl, and my sister, Mistress Catherine, has long 
 loved her. And as this is a childless house, alasl 
 the maid hath come to live with us and she will 
 be as my own daughter, if God wills it." 
 
 "She is well?" Johnnie asked, in a hoarse 
 whisper. 
 
 The Alderman shook his head sadly. " She is 
 the bravest maiden I have ever met," he said. 
 " She hath stuff in her which recalls the ladies of 
 old Rome, so calm and stedfast is she. There is 
 in her at this time some divine illumination, Mr. 
 Commendone, that keepeth her strong and un- 
 afraid. Ah, but she is sore stricken ! She knew 
 some hours agone of the doings at Hadley, for as 
 I told you, one of my men brought the news. She 
 hath been in prayer a long time, poor lamb, and 
 now my sister is with her to hearten her and give 
 her such comfort as may be. God's ways are very 
 strange, Mr. John. Who would have thought now 
 that you should come to this house to-night from 
 that butchery?" He sighed deeply.
 
 i6 4 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 Johnnie made the sign of the cross. " God 
 moveth in a mysterious way," he said, " to perform 
 His wonders. He rides upon the tempest, and 
 eke directs the storm, and leadeth pigmy men and 
 women with a sure hand and a certain pur- 
 pose." 
 
 " Say not ' pigmy,' Mr. John," the Alderman 
 answered, " we are not small in His eyes, though 
 it is well that we should be in our own. But you 
 speak with a certain meaning. You grew pale just 
 now. I think you may justly confide in me. I am 
 of thy father's age, and a friend of thy father's. 
 What is it, lad?" 
 
 Speaking with great difficulty, looking down- 
 wards at the floor, Johnnie told him. He told him 
 how he had met John Hull and taken him into 
 his service, how that even now the man was in 
 the kitchen among the servants of the Alderman. 
 He told of the fellow's menace in Chepe, and how 
 inexplicable it had seemed to him. Then he hesi- 
 tated, and his voice sunk into silence. 
 
 ' Ye saw the poor lamb? " Mr. Cressemer said 
 in a low voice, which nevertheless trembled with 
 excitement. " Ye saw her weeping as good Dr. 
 Taylor was borne away ? Ye took this good varlet 
 Hull into thy service? And now thou art in my 
 house. It seemeth indeed that God's finger is 
 writing in the book of thy life; but I must hear 
 more from thee, Mr. Commendone. Tell me, if 
 thou wilt, what it may mean." 
 
 Johnnie straightened himself. He put his hand
 
 FINDING OF ELIZABETH 165 
 
 upon the pummel of his sword. He looked his 
 host full in the eyes. 
 
 " It means this, sir," he said, in a quiet and 
 resolute voice. " All my life I have kept myself 
 from those pleasures and peccadilloes that young 
 gentlemen of my station are wont to use. I have 
 never looked upon a maiden with eyes of love 
 or worse. Before God His Throne, Our Lady 
 the Blessed Virgin, and all the crowned saints I 
 say it. But yester morn, when I saw her weeping , 
 in the grey, my heart went out from me, and is no 
 more mine. I vowed then that by God's grace 
 I would be her knight and lover for ever and a 
 day. My employment hath not to-day given me 
 the opportunity to go to Mass, but I have prom- 
 ised myself to-morrow morn that in the chapel of 
 St. John I will vow myself to her with all fealty, 
 and indeed nor man, nor power, nor obstacle of 
 any sort shall keep me from her, if God allows. 
 Wife she shall be to me, an so I can make her love 
 me. All this I swear to you, by my honour " here 
 he pulled his sword from the scabbard and rever- 
 ently kissed the hilt " and to the Blessed Trinity." 
 And now he pulled his crucifix from his doublet, 
 and kissed it. 
 
 Then he turned away from the Alderman, took 
 a few steps to the fire-place, and leant against 
 the carving, his head bowed upon his arms. 
 
 There was a dead silence in the big room. 
 Tears were gathering in the eyes of the grave 
 elderly man, while his mind worked furiously. He
 
 1 66 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 saw in all this the direct hand of Providence work- 
 ing towards a definite and certain end. 
 
 He had loved the slim and gracious lad directly 
 he saw him. His heart had gone out to one so 
 gallant and one so debonair, the son of his old 
 and trusted friend. He had long loved the Rector 
 of Hadley's sweet daughter, who was so idolised 
 also by Mistress Catherine Cressemer, his sister. 
 During the reign of Edward VI the girl had 
 often come up to London to spend some months 
 with her wealthy and influential friends. She 
 had a great part in the heart of the childless 
 widower. 
 
 Now this strange and wonderful thing had hap- 
 pened. 
 
 These thoughts passed through the old man's 
 mind in a few seconds, while the silence was not 
 broken. Then, as he was about to turn and speak 
 to Johnnie, the door of the room opened quickly, 
 and a short, elderly woman hurried in. 
 
 She was very simply dressed in grey woollen 
 stuff, though the bodice and skirt were edged with 
 costly fur. The white lace of Bruges upon her 
 head framed a face of great sweetness, and now 
 it was alive with excitement. 
 
 She was a little woman, fifty years of age, with 
 a flat wrinkled face; but her eyes were full of 
 kindness, and, indeed, so was her whole face, al- 
 though her lips were drawn in by the loss of her 
 front teeth, and this gave her a rather witch-like 
 mouth.
 
 FINDING OF ELIZABETH 167 
 
 " Robert ! Robert ! " she said in a high, excited 
 voice. ' John Hull, that was servant to our dear 
 Doctor, is in this house. The men have him in the 
 kitchen word has just been sent up to me. What 
 shall we do? Dear Lizzie she is more tranquil 
 now, and bearing her cross very bravely dear 
 Lizzie had thought not to see him again. Will 
 it be well that we should have him up ? Think you 
 the child can bear seeing him?" 
 
 The lady had piped this out in a rush of excited 
 words. Then suddenly she saw Johnnie, who had 
 turned round and stood by the fire, bowing. His 
 face was drawn and white, and he was trem- 
 bling. 
 
 " Catherine," Mr. Cressemer said, " strange 
 things are happening to-night, of which I must 
 speak with you anon. But this is Mr. John Com- 
 mendone, son of our dear Knight of Kent, who 
 hath come to see me, and who haply or by design 
 of God was forced to witness the death of Dr. 
 Rowland this morning." 
 
 Johnnie made a low bow, the little lady a lower 
 curtsey. 
 
 Then, heedless of all etiquette, with the tears 
 streaming down her cheeks, she trotted up to the 
 young man and caught hold of both his hands, 
 looking up at him with the saddest, kindest face 
 he had ever seen. 
 
 " Oh, boy, boy," she said, " thou hast come at 
 the right time. We know with what constancy 
 the Doctor died, but our lamb will be well con-
 
 1 68 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 tent to hear of it from kindly lips, for she is very 
 strong and stedfast, the pretty dear I And thou 
 hast a good face, and surely art a true son of thy 
 father, Sir Henry of Commendone."
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 A KING AND A VICTIM. TWO GRIM MEN 
 
 THERE was a " Red Mass," a votive Mass of the 
 Holy Ghost, sung on the next morning in the 
 Tower. 
 
 The King and Queen, with all the Court, were 
 present. 
 
 Johnnie knelt with the gentlemen attached to 
 the persons of the King and Queen, the gentle- 
 men ushers behind them, and then the military 
 officers of the guard. 
 
 The Ven'i Creator Spiritus was intoned by the 
 Chancellor, and the music of the Mass was that 
 of Dom Giovanni Palestrina, director of sacred 
 music at the Vatican at that time. 
 
 The music, which by its dignity and beauty had 
 alone prevented the Council of Trent from pro- 
 hibiting polyphonic music at the Mass, had a 
 marvellous appeal to the Esquire. It was founded 
 upon a canto fermo, a melody of an ancient plain 
 song of the Middle Ages, and used in High Mass 
 from a very remote period. 
 
 The six movements of the Kyrie, Gloria, Credo, 
 Sanctus, Benedictus, and Agnus Dei were of a 
 superlative technical excellence. The trained ear, 
 the musical mind, were alike enthralled by them. 
 
 169
 
 1 70 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 Tinel, Waddington, and Christopher Tye had 
 written no music then, and the mellow angelic har- 
 monies of Messer Palestrina were all new and 
 fresh in their inspiration of dignity, grandeur, and 
 devotion, most precious incense, as it were, about 
 the feet of the Lord. 
 
 The Bishop of London was celebrant, and 
 Father Deza deacon. The Queen and King re- 
 ceived in the one Kind, while two of the re-estab- 
 lished Carthusians from Sheen, and two Brigittine 
 monks from Sion, held a white cloth before Their 
 Graces. 
 
 This was not liked by many there it had al- 
 ways been the privilege of peers. 
 
 But of this Commendone knew nothing. The 
 hour was for him one of the deepest devotion and 
 solemnity. He had not slept all the night long. 
 For a few moments he had seen Elizabeth, had 
 spoken with her, had held her by the hand. His 
 life was utterly and absolutely changed. His mind, 
 excited with want of sleep, irrevocably stamped 
 and impressed by the occupation of the last two 
 days, was caught up by the exquisite music into a 
 passionate surrender of self as he vowed his life 
 to God and his lady. 
 
 Earth and all it held save only her was ut- 
 terly dissolved and swept away. An unspeakable 
 peace and stillness was in his heart. 
 
 Much, we read, is required from those to whom 
 much is given, and Johnnie was to go through 
 places far more terrible than the Valley of the
 
 A KING AND A VICTIM 171 
 
 Shadow of Death ever is to most men before he 
 saw the Dawn. 
 
 When the Mass was said the final " Missa 
 est " was to ring in the young man's ears for many 
 a long day he went to breakfast. He took noth- 
 ing in the Common Room, however, but John 
 Hull brought him food in his own chamber. 
 
 The man's brown, keen face beamed with hap- 
 piness. He was like some faithful dog that had 
 lost one master and found another. He could not 
 do enough for Johnnie now after the visit to 
 Mr. Cressemer's house. He took charge of him 
 as if he had been his man for years. There was 
 a quiet assumption which secretly delighted Com- 
 mendone. There they were, master and man, a 
 relationship fixed and settled. 
 
 On that afternoon there was to be a tourna- 
 ment in the tilting yard, and Johnnie meant to 
 ride he had nearly carried away the ring at the 
 last joust. Hull knew of it in a few hours the 
 fellow seemed to have fallen into his place in an 
 extraordinary fashion and he had been busy with 
 his master's armour since early dawn. 
 
 While Johnnie was making his breakfast, though 
 he would very willingly have been alone, and in- 
 deed had retired for that very purpose, Hull came 
 bustling in and out of the armour-room his face a 
 brown wedge of pleasure and excitement. The 
 volante piece, the mentonniere, the grande-garde 
 of his master's exquisite suite of light Milan 
 armour shone like a newly-minted coin. The black
 
 i 7 2 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 and lacquered cuirasse, with a line of light blue 
 enamel where it would meet the gorget, was oiled 
 and polished he had somehow found the little box 
 of bandrols with the Commendone colour and 
 cypher which were to be tied above the coronels 
 of Johnnie's lances. 
 
 And all the time John Hull chattered and 
 worked, perfectly happy, perfectly at home. Al- 
 ready, to Commendone's intense amusement, the 
 man had become dictatorial as old and trusted 
 servants are. He had got some powder of resin, 
 and was about to pour it into the jointed steel 
 gauntlet of the lance hand. 
 
 " It gives the grip, master," he said. " By this 
 means the hand fitteth better to the joints of the 
 steel." 
 
 " But 'tis never used that I know of. 'Tis not 
 like the grip of a bare hand on the ash stave of a 
 pike. ..." 
 
 There was a technical discussion, which ended in 
 Johnnie's defeat at least, John Hull calmly pow- 
 dered the inside of the glaive. 
 
 He was got rid of at last, sent to his meal with 
 the other serving-men, and Commendone was left 
 alone. He had an hour to himself, an hour in 
 which to recall the brief but perfect joy of the 
 night before. 
 
 They had taken him to Elizabeth after supper, 
 his good host and hostess. There was something 
 piteously sweet in the tall slim girl in her black 
 dress the dear young mouth trembling, the blue
 
 A KING AND A VICTIM 173 
 
 eyes full of a mist of unshed tears, the hair ripest 
 wheat or brownest barley. 
 
 She had taken his hand hers was like cool 
 white ivory and listened to him as a sister 
 might. 
 
 He had sat beside her, and told her of her 
 father's glorious death. His dark and always 
 rather melancholy face had been lit with sympathy 
 and tenderness. Quite unconscious of his own 
 grace and grave young dignity, he had dwelt upon 
 the Martyr's joy at setting out upon his last jour- 
 ney, with an incomparable delicacy and perfection 
 of phrase. 
 
 His voice, though he knew it not, was full of 
 music. His extreme good looks, the refinement and 
 purity of his face, came to the poor child with a 
 wonderful message of consolation. 
 
 When he told her how a brutal yeoman had 
 thrown a faggot at the Archdeacon, she shuddered 
 and moaned a little. 
 
 Mr. Cressemer and his sister looked at Johnnie 
 with reproach. 
 
 But he had done it of set purpose. " And then, 
 Mistress Elizabeth," he continued, " the Doctor 
 said, ' Friend, I have harm enough. What need- 
 eth that?'" 
 
 His hand had been upon his knee. She caught 
 it up between her own innocent, as to a brother, 
 unutterably sweet. 
 
 ."Oh, dear Father!" she cried. "It is just 
 what he would have said. It is so like him ! "
 
 i 74 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 " It is liker Christ our Lord," Robert Cressemer 
 broke in, his deep voice shaking with sorrow. 
 " For what, indeed, said He at His cruel nailing? 
 
 ' TLa.rt.py a<pes avrois ov yap oiSacri TI Troivcn.' " 
 
 . . . And then they had sent Johnnie away, 
 marvelling at the goodness, shrewdness, and knowl- 
 edge of the Alderman, with his whole being one 
 sob of love, pity, and protection for his dear sim- 
 ple mourner so crystal clear, so sisterlike and 
 sweet ! 
 
 It was time to go upon duty. 
 
 Johnnie looked at his thick oval watch a 
 " Nuremberg Egg," as it was called in those days 
 cut short his reverie of sweet remembrance, and 
 went straight to the King Consort's wing of the 
 Palace. 
 
 When he was come into the King's room he 
 found him alone with Torrome, his valet, sitting 
 in a big leather-covered arm-chair, his ruff and 
 doublet taken off, and wearing a long dressing- 
 gown of brown stuff, a friar's gown it almost 
 seemed. 
 
 The melancholy yellow face brightened some- 
 what as the Esquire came in. 
 
 " I am home again, Senor," he said in Spanish, 
 though " en casa " was the word he used for home, 
 and that had a certain pathos in it. " There is a 
 torneo, a justa, after dinner, so they tell 
 me. I had wished to ride myself, but I am weary
 
 A KING AND A VICTIM 175 
 
 from our viajero into the country. I shall sit 
 with the Queen, and you, Senor, will attend 
 me." 
 
 He must have seen a slight, fleeting look of dis- 
 appointment upon Commendone's face. 
 
 Himself, as the envoy Suriano said of him in 
 1548, " deficient in that energy which becometh 
 a man, sluggish in body and timid in martial enter- 
 prise," he nevertheless affected an exaggerated in- 
 terest in manly sports. He had, it is true, mingled 
 in some tournaments at Brussels in the past, and 
 Calvera says that he broke his lances, " very much 
 to the satisfaction of his father and aunts." But in 
 England, at any rate, he had done nothing of the 
 sort, and his voice to Commendone was almost 
 apologetic. 
 
 " We will break a lance together some day," he 
 said, " but you must forego the lists this after- 
 noon." 
 
 Johnnie bowed very low. This was extraordi- 
 nary favour. He knew, of course, that the King 
 would never tilt with him, but he recognised the 
 compliment. 
 
 He knew, again, that his star was high in the 
 ascendant. The son of the great Charles V was 
 reserved, cautious, suspicious of all men except 
 when, in private, he would unbend to buffoons 
 and vulgar rascals like Sir John Shelton and the 
 icy gravity of his deportment to courtiers seldom 
 varied. 
 
 Commendone was quite aware that the King did
 
 i 7 6 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 not class him with men of Shelton's stamp. He 
 was the more signally honoured therefore. 
 
 ' This night," His Grace continued, " after the 
 jousts, your attendance will be excused, Senor. I 
 retire early to rest." 
 
 The Esquire bowed, but he had caught a cer- 
 tain gleam in the King's small eyes. " Duck Lane 
 or Bankside ! " he thought to himself. " Thank 
 God he hath not commanded me to be with him." 
 
 Johnnie was beginning to understand, more than 
 he had hitherto done, something of his sudden rise 
 to favour and almost intimacy. The King Con- 
 sort was trying him, testing him in every way, hop- 
 ing to find at length a companion less dangerous 
 and drunken, a reputation less blown upon, a serv- 
 ant more discreet. . . . 
 
 He could have spat in his disgust. What he 
 had tolerated in others before, though loftily repu- 
 diated for himself, now became utterly loathsome 
 in King or commoner, black and most foul. 
 
 The King wore a mask; Johnnie wore one also 
 there was finesse in the game between master and 
 servant. And to-night the King would wear a 
 literal mask, the " maschera," which Badovardo 
 speaks of when he set down the frailties of this 
 monarch for after generations to read of: " Nelle 
 piaceri delle donne e incontinente, predendo dil- 
 letatlone d 'an dare in maschera la notte et nei tempi 
 de negotii gravi" 
 
 Then and there Johnnie made a resolution, one 
 which had been nascent in his mind for many hours.
 
 A KING AND A VICTIM 177 
 
 He would have done with the Court as soon as 
 may be. Ambition, so new a child of his brain, 
 was already dead. He would marry, retire from 
 pageant and splendour even as his father had done 
 years and years ago. With Elizabeth by his side 
 he would once more live happily among the woods 
 and wolds of Commendone. 
 
 Torrome, the criado or valet, came into the 
 room again from the bed-chamber. His Highness 
 was to change his clothes once more at high noon 
 he must be with the Queen upon State affairs. The 
 Chancellor and Lord Wharton were coming, and 
 with them Brookes, the Bishop of Gloucester, the 
 papal sub-delegate, and the Royal Proctors, Mr. 
 Martin and Mr. Storey. 
 
 The prelates, Ridley and Latimer, were lying in 
 prison their ultimate fate was to be discussed on 
 that morning. 
 
 The King had but hardly gone into his bed- 
 chamber when the door of the Closet opened and 
 Don Diego Deza entered, unannounced, and with 
 the manner of habitude and use. 
 
 He greeted Commendone heartily, shaking him 
 by the hand with considerable warmth, his clear- 
 cut, inscrutable face wearing an expression of fixed 
 kindliness put on for the occasion, meant to ap- 
 pear sincere, there for a purpose. 
 
 " I will await His Grace here," the priest said, 
 glancing at the door leading to the bedroom, 
 which was closed. " I am to attend him to the 
 Council Chamber, where there is much business to
 
 178 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 be done. So next week, Mr. Commendone, you'll 
 be at Whitehall! The Court will be gayer there 
 more suited to you young gallants." 
 
 " For my part," Johnnie answered, " I like the 
 Tower well enough." 
 
 " Hast a contented mind, Sefior," the priest an- 
 swered brightly. " But I hap to know that the 
 Queen will be glad to be gone from the City. This 
 hath been a necessary visit, one of ceremony, but 
 Her Grace liketh the Palace of Westminster better, 
 and her Castle of Windsor best of all. I shall 
 meet you at Windsor in the new year, and hope to 
 see you more advanced. Wilt be wearing the gold 
 spurs then, I believe, and there will be two knights 
 of the honoured name of Commendone! " 
 
 Johnnie answered: "I think not, Father," he 
 said, turning over his own secret resolve in his 
 mind with an inward smile. " But why at 
 Windsor? Doubtless we shall meet near every 
 day." 
 
 " Say nothing, Mr. Commendone," the priest 
 answered in a low voice. " There can be no harm 
 in telling you who are privy to so much but I 
 sail for Spain to-morrow morn, and shall be some 
 months absent upon His Most Catholic Majesty's 
 affairs." 
 
 Shortly after this, the King came out of his 
 room, three of his Spanish gentlemen were shown 
 in, and with Johnnie, the Dominican, and hig 
 escort, His Highness walked to the Council Cham- 
 ber, round the tower of which stood a company
 
 A KING AND A VICTIM 179 
 
 of the Queen's Archers, showing that Her Grace 
 had already arrived. 
 
 Then for two hours Johnnie kicked his heels 
 in the Ante-room, watching this or that great man 
 pass in and out of the Council Chamber, chatting 
 with the members of the Spanish suite bored to 
 death. 
 
 At half-past one the Council was over, and Their 
 Majesties went to dinner, as did also Johnnie in 
 the Common Room. 
 
 At half-past three of the clock the Esquire was 
 standing in the Royal box behind the King and 
 Queen, among a group of other courtiers, and 
 looking down on the great tilting yard, where he 
 longed himself to be. 
 
 The Royal Gallery was at one end of the yard, 
 a great stage-box, as it were, into which two carved 
 chairs were set, and which was designated, as a 
 somewhat fervent chronicler records, " the gallery, 
 or place at the end of the tilting yard adjoining 
 to Her Grace's Palace of the Tower, whereat her 
 person should be placed. It was called, and with 
 good cause, the Castle, or Fortress of Perfect 
 Beauty, forasmuch as Her Highness should be 
 there included." 
 
 Johnnie stood and watched it all with eyes in 
 which there was but little animation. A few days 
 before nothing would have gladdened him more 
 than such a spectacle as this. To-day it was as 
 nothing to him. 
 
 Down below was a device of painted canvas,
 
 1 80 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 imitating a rolling-trench, which was supposed to 
 be the besieging works of those who attempted 
 the " Fortress of Perfect Beauty." 
 
 " Upon the top of it were set two cannons 
 wrought of wood, and coloured so passing well, 
 as, indeed, they seemed to be two fair field-pieces 
 of ordnance. And by them were placed two men 
 for gunners in cloth and crimson sarcanet, with 
 baskets of earth for defence of their bodies 
 withal." 
 
 At the far end of the lists there came a clanking 
 and hammering of the farriers' and armourers' 
 forges. 
 
 Grooms in mandilions the loose, sleeveless 
 jacket of their calling were running about every- 
 where, leading the chargers trapped with velvet 
 and gold in their harness. Gentlemen in short 
 cloaks and Venetian hose bustled about among the 
 knights, and here and there from the stables, and 
 withdrawing sheds outside the lists, great ar- 
 moured figures came, the sun shining upon their 
 plates russet-coloured, fluted, damascened with 
 gold in a hundred points of fire. 
 
 Nothing could be more splendid, as the trumpet- 
 ers advanced into the lists, and the fierce fan- 
 faronade snarled up to the sky. The Garter King- 
 at-arms in his tabard, mounted on a white horse 
 with gold housings, rode out into the centre of 
 the yard, and behind him, though on foot, were 
 Blue-mantle and Rouge-dragon. 
 
 The afternoon air was full of martial noise,
 
 A KING AND A VICTIM 181 
 
 the clank of metal, the brazen notes of horns, the 
 stir and murmur of a great company. 
 
 To Johnnie it seemed that he did not know the 
 shadow from the substance. It all passed before 
 him in a series of coloured pictures, unreal and far 
 away. Had he been down there among the knights 
 and lords, he felt that he would but have fought 
 with shadows. It was as though a weird seizure 
 had taken hold on him, a waking dream enmeshed 
 him in its drowsy impalpable net, so that on a 
 sudden, in the midst of men and day, while he 
 walked and talked and stood as ever before, he yet 
 seemed to move among a world of ghosts, to feel 
 himself the shadow of a dream. Once when Sir 
 Charles Paston Cooper, a very clever rider at the 
 swinging ring, and also doughty in full shock of 
 combat, had borne down his adversary, the Queen 
 clapped her hands. 
 
 " Habet ! " she cried, like any Roman empress, 
 excited and glad, because young Sir Charles was 
 a very strong adherent of the Crown, and known 
 to be bitterly opposed to the pretensions of the 
 Lady Elizabeth. " Habet ! " the Queen cried 
 again, with a shriek of delight. 
 
 She looked at her husband, whose head was a 
 little bent, whose sallow face was lost in thought. 
 She did not venture to disturb his reverie, but 
 glanced behind him and above his chair to where 
 John Commendone was standing. 
 
 " C'est bien fait, n'est-ce pas, Monsieur?" she 
 said in French.
 
 182 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 The young man's face, also, was frozen into 
 immobility. It did not waken to the Queen's joy- 
 ous exclamation. The eyes were turned inwards, 
 he was hearing nothing of it all. 
 
 Her Grace's face flushed a little. She said no 
 more, but wondered exceedingly. 
 
 The stately display-at-arms went on. The sun 
 declined towards his western bower, and blue 
 shadows crept slowly over the sand. 
 
 A little chill wind arose suddenly, and as it did 
 so, Commendone awoke. 
 
 Everything flashed back to him. In the instant 
 that it did so, and the dreaming of his mind was 
 blown away, the curtain before his subconscious 
 intelligence rolled up and showed him the real 
 world. The first thing he saw was the head of 
 King Philip just below him. The tall conical felt 
 hat moved suddenly, leaning downwards towards 
 a corner of the arena just below the Royal box. 
 
 Johnnie saw the King's profile, the lean, sallow 
 jowl, the corner of the curved, tired, and haughty 
 lip the small eye suddenly lit up. 
 
 Following the King's glance, he saw below the 
 figure of Sir John Shelton, dressed very quietly in 
 ordinary riding costume, and by the side of the 
 knight, Torrome, the valet of His Highness. 
 
 Both men nodded, and the King slightly inclined 
 his head in reply. 
 
 Then His Highness leant back in his chair, and 
 a little hissing noise, a sigh of relief or pleasure, 
 came from his lips.
 
 A KING AND A VICTIM 183 
 
 Immediately he turned to the Queen, placed 
 one hand upon her jewelled glove, and began to 
 speak with singular animation and brightness. 
 
 The Queen changed in a moment. The lassi- 
 tude and disappointment went from her face in a 
 flash. She turned to her husband, radiant and 
 happy, and once more her face became beautiful. 
 
 It was the last time that John Commendone ever 
 saw the face of Queen Mary. In after years he 
 preferred always to think of her as he saw her 
 then. 
 
 The tourney was over. Everybody had left 
 the tilting yard and its vicinity, save only the far- 
 riers, the armour smiths, and grooms. 
 
 In front of the old palace hardly a soul was to 
 be seen, except the sentinels and men of the guard, 
 who paced up and down the terraces. 
 
 It was eight o'clock, and twilight was falling. 
 All the windows were lit, every one was dressing 
 for supper, and now and then little roulades of 
 flutes, the twanging of viols being tuned, the mel- 
 low clarionette-like voice of the piccolo-milanese 
 showed that the Royal band was preparing for the 
 feast. 
 
 Johnnie was off duty; his time was his own now, 
 and he could do as he would. 
 
 He longed more than anything to go to Chepe 
 to be with the Cressemers again, to see Elizabeth; 
 but, always punctilious upon points of etiquette, 
 and especially remembering the sad case and 
 dolour of his love, he felt it would be better not
 
 1 84 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 to go. Nevertheless, he took a sheet of paper 
 from his case into the Common Room, and wrote 
 a short letter of greeting to the Alderman. With 
 this he also sent a posy of white roses, which he 
 bribed a serving-man to get from the Privy Gar- 
 den, desiring that the flowers should be given to 
 Mistress Elizabeth Taylor. 
 
 This done, he sought and found his servant. 
 
 " To-night, John Hull," he said, " I shall not 
 need thee, and thou mayest go into the City and do 
 as thou wilt. I am going to rest early, for I am 
 very tired. Come you back before midnight you 
 can get the servant's pass from the lieutenant of the 
 guard if you mention my name and wake me and 
 bring me some milk. But while thou art away, 
 take this letter and these flowers to the house of 
 Master Robert Cressemer. Do not deliver them 
 at once when thou goest, but at ten or a little later, 
 and desire them to be taken at once to His 
 Worship." 
 
 This he said, knowing something of the habits 
 of the great house in Chepeside, and thinking that 
 his posy would be taken to Elizabeth when she 
 was retiring to her sleep. 
 
 " Perchance she may think of me all night," said 
 cunning Johnnie to himself. 
 
 Hull took the letter and the flowers, and de- 
 parted. Johnnie went to his chamber, disembar- 
 rassing himself of his stiff starched ruff, took off 
 his sword, and put on the cassock-coat, which was 
 the undress for the young gentlemen of the Court
 
 A KING AND A VICTIM 185 
 
 when they met in the Common Room for a 
 meal. 
 
 He designed to take some food, and then to go 
 straight to bed and sleep until his servant should 
 wake him with the milk he had ordered, and espe- 
 cially with the message of how he had done in 
 Chepe. 
 
 He had just arrayed himself and was wearily 
 stretching out his arms, wondering whether after 
 all he should go downstairs to sup or no, when 
 the door of his bedroom was pushed open and 
 Ambrose Cholmondely entered. 
 
 Johnnie was glad to see his friend. 
 
 " Hola! " he said, " I was in need of some one 
 with whom to talk. You come in a good moment, 
 mon ami." 
 
 Cholmondely sat down upon the bed. 
 
 " Well," he said, " didst come off well at the 
 tourney? " 
 
 Johnnie shook his head. " I didn't ride," he 
 said, " I was in attendance upon His Grace, rather 
 to my disgust, for I had hoped for some exercise. 
 But you ? Where were you, Ambrose ? " 
 
 "I? Well, Johnnie, I was excused attendance 
 this afternoon. I made interest with Mr. Champ- 
 neys, and so I got off." 
 
 '' Venus, her service, I doubt me," Johnnie an- 
 swered. 
 
 Ambrose Cholmondely nodded. 
 ' Yes," he said, " i' faith, a very bootless quest 
 it was. A girl at an inn that I lit upon some
 
 1 86 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 time agone you would not know it 'tis a big 
 hostel of King Henry's time without Aldgate, the 
 ' Woolsack.' " 
 
 Johnnie started. " I went there once," he said. 
 
 " I should well have thought," Cholmondely 
 replied, " it would have been out of your purview. 
 Never mind. My business came not to a satisfac- 
 tory end. The girl was very coy. But I tell you 
 what I did see, and that hath given me much reason 
 for thought. Along the road towards Essex, 
 where I was walking, hoping to meet my inamorata, 
 came a damsel walking, by her dress and bearing 
 of gentle birth, and with a serving-maid by her 
 side. I was not upon the high road, but sat under 
 a sycamore tree in a field hard by, but I saw all that 
 passed very well. A carriage came slowly down 
 the road towards this lady. Out of it jumped that 
 bully-rook John Shelton, and close behind him the 
 Spanish valet Torrome, that is the King's private 
 servant. They caught hold of the girl, Shelton 
 clapped a hand upon her mouth, and they had her 
 in the carriage in a moment and her maid with her 
 which immediately turned round and went back 
 at a quick pace through Aldgate. I would have 
 interfered, but I could not get to the high road in 
 time; 'twas so quickly done. Johnnie, there will 
 be great trouble in London, if Shelton and these 
 Spaniards he is so friendly with are to do such 
 things in England. It may go on well enough for 
 a time, but suddenly the bees will be roused from 
 their hive, and there will be such a to-do and tur-
 
 A KING AND A VICTIM 187 
 
 moil, such a candle will be lit as will not easily be 
 put out." 
 
 Johnnie shrugged his shoulders. In his mood 
 of absolute disgust with his surroundings, the re- 
 cital interested him very little. He connected it at 
 once with the appearance of Shelton and the valet 
 at the end of the tourney, but it was not his busi- 
 ness. 
 
 ' The hog to his stye," he said bitterly. " I am 
 going to take some supper, and then to bed, for I 
 am very weary." 
 
 Arm in arm with Ambrose Cholmondely, he de- 
 scended the stairs, went into the Common Room, 
 and made a simple meal. 
 
 The place was riotous with high spirits, the 
 talk was fast and free, but he joined in none of 
 it, and in a very few minutes had returned to his 
 room, closed the door, and thrown himself upon 
 the bed. 
 
 Almost immediately he sank into a deep sleep. 
 
 He was dreaming of Elizabeth, and in his 
 dream was interwoven the sound of great bells, 
 when the fantastic painted pictures of sleep were 
 suddenly shaken violently and dissolved. They 
 flashed away, and his voice rose in calling after 
 them to stay, when he suddenly awoke. 
 
 The bells were still going on, deep golden notes 
 from the central cupola over the Queen's Gallery, 
 beating out the hour of eleven. But as they 
 changed from dream into reality much louder 
 and imminent he felt himself shaken violently.
 
 1 88 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 A strong hand gripped his shoulder, a hoarse voice 
 mingled with the bell-music in his ears. He awoke. 
 
 His little room was lit by a lanthorn standing 
 upon the mantel with the door open. 
 
 John Hull, a huge broad shadow, was bending 
 over him. He sat up in bed. 
 
 " Dame! " he cried, " and what is this? " 
 
 " Master ! Master ! She has been taken away ! 
 My little mistress ! Most foully taken away, and 
 none know where she may be ! " 
 
 Johnnie sprang from his bed, upright and trem- 
 bling. 
 
 " I took the letter and the flowers as you bade 
 me. But all was sorrow and turmoil at the house. 
 Mistress Elizabeth went out in the afternoon with 
 Alice her maid. She was to take the air. They 
 have not returned. Nothing is known. His Wor- 
 ship hath fifty men searching for her, and hath had 
 for hours. But it avails nothing." 
 
 Johnnie suddenly became quite quiet. Hull saw 
 his face change. The smooth, gracious contours 
 were gone. An inner face, sharp, resolute, hag- 
 gard and terribly alive, sprang out and pushed the 
 other away. 
 
 " His Worship writ thee a letter, sir. Here 
 'tis." 
 
 Johnnie held out his hand. The letter was 
 brief, the writing hurried and indistinct with alarm. 
 
 " DEAR LAD, They have taken our Lizzie, 
 whom I know not. But I fear the worst things.
 
 A KING AND A VICTIM 189 
 
 I cannot find her with all my resource. An' if / 
 cannot, one must dread exceeding. I dare say no 
 more. But come to me on the instant, if canst. 
 Thou being at Court I take it, may be able to 
 do more than I, at the moment and in the article of 
 our misfortune. The weight I bring to bear is 
 heavy, but taketh time. Command me in every 
 way as seemeth good to you. Order, and if needs 
 be threaten in my name. All you do or say is as if 
 I said it, and they that deny it will feel my hand 
 heavy on them. 
 
 " But come, dear lad. Our Lady help and shield 
 the little lamb. 
 
 ' Your friend, 
 
 " ROBERT CRESSEMER, 
 
 " Alderman." 
 
 Johnnie thrust the letter into his bosom. 
 
 " John Hull, art ready to follow me to the 
 death, as it may be and very like will? " 
 
 " Certes, master." 
 
 " Anything for her? Are you my man to do all 
 and everything I tell thee till the end?" 
 
 John Hull answered nothing. He ran out of 
 the room and returned in an instant with his mas- 
 ter's boots and sword. He saw that the holster 
 pistols were primed. He took one of Johnnie's 
 daggers and thrust it into the sheath of his knife 
 without asking. 
 
 The two men armed themselves to the teeth 
 without another word.
 
 i 9 o HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 "I'll be round to the stables," Hull said at 
 length. "Two horses, master? I will rouse one 
 groom only and say 'tis State business." 
 ' You know then where we must go? " 
 
 " I know not the place. But I guess it. We 
 hear much we Court servants ! " He spat upon 
 the floor. " And I saw him looking at her as the 
 Doctor rode to Hadley." 
 
 "Wilt risk it? death, torture, which is worse, 
 John Hull?" 
 
 " Duck Lane, master?" 
 
 " Duck Lane." 
 
 " I thought so. I'm for the horses." 
 
 A clatter of descending footsteps, a man stand- 
 ing in a little darkling room, his hand upon his 
 sword hilt. His teeth set, his brain working in ice. 
 
 Receding footsteps. ..." Faithfullest serv- 
 ant that ever man had ! " 
 
 And so to the bitter work I
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 HEY HO! AND A RUMBELOw! 
 
 THEY had ridden over London Bridge. 
 
 The night was dark, and a wind was beginning 
 to rise. Again, here and there about the bridge, 
 soldiers were lounging, but Commendone and his 
 servant passed over successfully. He was recog- 
 nised from the last time, three nights ago. As they 
 walked their horses through the scattered houses 
 immediately at the southern end of the bridge, 
 Johnnie spoke to Hull. 
 
 "I have plans," he said quietly; "my mind is 
 full of them. But I can give you no hint until 
 we are there and doing. Be quick at the uptake, 
 follow me in all I do, but if necessary act thyself, 
 and remember that we are desperate men upon 
 an adventure as desperate. Let nothing stand in 
 the way, as I shall not." 
 
 For answer he heard a low mutter, almost a 
 growl, and they rode on in silence. 
 
 Both were cool and calm, strung up to the very 
 highest point, every single faculty of mind and 
 body on the alert and poised to strike. 
 
 One, the Spanish blood within him turning to 
 that cold icy fury which would stick at nothing in 
 this world to achieve his ends, the while his trained 
 
 191
 
 192 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 intelligence and high mental powers sat, as it were, 
 upon his frozen anger and rode it as a horse; the 
 other, a volcano of hidden snarling fury, seeing 
 red at each step of his way through the dark, 
 but subordinate and disciplined by the master 
 mind. 
 
 They came to the entrance to Duck Lane, 
 walked their horses quietly down it once more it 
 was in silence until under the lamp above the big 
 red door of the House of Shame, they saw two 
 horses tethered to a ring in the wall, and a man 
 in a cloak walking up and down in front of the 
 house. 
 
 He looked up sharply as they came into the 
 circle of lamp-light, and Johnnie saw, with a fierce 
 throb of exultation, that it was Torrome, the 
 King's valet. 
 
 " It is you, Sefior," the man said in a low voice 
 of relief. 
 
 Johnnie nodded curtly as he dismounted. 
 1 Yes," he said, in a voice equally low, putting 
 something furtive and sly into the tones, for he was 
 a consummate actor. " Yes, it is I, Torrome. I 
 must see His Grace at once on matters of high 
 importance." 
 
 " His Grace said nothing," the man began. 
 
 " I know, I know," Johnnie answered. " It was 
 not thought that I should have to come, but as 
 events turn out " he struck with his hand upon 
 the door as he spoke " I am to see His Highness 
 at once."
 
 HEY HO! AND A RUMBELOW! 193 
 
 " I trust Her Grace ' the man whispered 
 in a frightened voice. 
 
 " Not a word," Commendone replied. " Take 
 our horses and keep watch over them also. My 
 man cometh in with me. Word will be sent out 
 to you anon what to do." 
 
 The man bowed, and gathered up the bridle of 
 the two new horses on his arm; while as he did 
 so, the big red door swung open a little, and a thin 
 face, covered with a mask of black velvet, peered 
 out at the newcomers. 
 
 " It is all right," the valet said, in French. 
 " This gentleman is of the suite of His Highness." 
 
 The peering, masked face scrutinised Johnnie 
 for a second, then nodded, and the red lips below 
 twisted into a sinister smile. 
 
 " Enter, sir," came in a soft, cooing voice. " I 
 remember you three nights back. . . . " 
 
 Johnnie entered, closely followed by Hull, and 
 the door was closed behind him. They stood once 
 more in the quiet carpeted passage, with its sense 
 of mystery, its heavily perfumed air, and once 
 again the tall nondescript figure flitted noiselessly in 
 front of them, and scratched upon a panel of the 
 big door at the end of the passage. There was the 
 tinkle of a bell within. The door was opened. 
 Johnnie pushed aside the curtains and entered the 
 room, hung with crimson arras, powdered with the 
 design of gold bats, lit with its hanging silver 
 lamps, and reeking with the odour of the scented 
 gums which were burning there.
 
 i 9 4 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 Madame La Motte rose from her chair behind 
 the little table as they entered. The big, painted 
 face was quite still and motionless, like a mask, 
 but the eyes glanced with quick, cunning bright- 
 ness at Commendone and his companion the only 
 things alive in that huge countenance. She recog- 
 nised Johnnie in a moment, and then her eyebrows 
 went up into her forehead and the lower part of 
 her face moved down a little, as if the whole were 
 actuated by the sudden pull of a lever. 
 
 " Mon gars," she said, in French, "and what 
 brings you here to-night? And who is 
 this?" . . . 
 
 Her eyes had fallen upon the broad figure of 
 the serving-man in his leather coat, his short 
 sword hanging from his belt, his hand upon his 
 dagger. 
 
 She might well look in alarm, this ancient, evil 
 woman, for the keen brown face of the servant 
 was gashed and lined with a terrible and quiet 
 fury, the lips curled away from the teeth, the fore 
 part of the body was bent forward a little as if 
 to spring. 
 
 Johnnie took two steps up to the woman. 
 
 " Madam," he said, in a voice so low that it was 
 hardly more than a whisper, but every syllable of 
 which was perfectly distinct and clear, " a lady 
 has been stolen from her friends, and brought to 
 this hell. Where is she? " 
 
 The woman knew in a moment why they had 
 come. She gave a sudden swift glance towards
 
 HEY HO! AND A RUMBELOW! 195 
 
 the door in the arras at the other side of the room, 
 which told Commendone all he wanted to know. 
 
 " It is true, then ? " he said. " Thou cat of hell, 
 bound mistress of the fiend, she is here? " 
 
 The huge body of the woman began to tremble 
 like a jelly, slowly at first in little shivers, and then 
 more rapidly until face and shapeless form shook 
 and swayed from side to side in a convulsion of 
 fear, while all the jewels upon her winked and 
 flashed. 
 
 As the young man bent forward and looked into 
 her face, she found a voice, a horrid, strangled 
 voice. " I know nothing," she coughed. 
 
 There was a low snarl, like a wakened panther, 
 as Commendone, shuddering as he did so, gripped 
 one bare, powdered shoulder. 
 
 " Silence ! " he said. 
 
 With one convulsive effort, the woman shot out 
 a fat hand, and rang the little silver bell upon the 
 table. 
 
 Almost immediately the door swung open; there 
 was a swish of curtains, and the tall, fantastic 
 figure of the creature who had let them into the 
 house stood there. 
 
 " Allez la maison en face viens toi vite, 
 Jules, Louis." 
 
 Commendone clapped his hand over the 
 woman's mouth, just as the eel-like creature at 
 the door, realising the situation in a moment, was 
 gliding through the curtains to summon the bullies 
 of the house.
 
 196 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 But John Hull was too quick for him. He 
 caught him by the arm, wrenched him back into the 
 room, sent him spinning into the centre of it, and 
 took two steps towards him, his right fist half 
 raised to deal him a great blow. 
 
 The creature mewed like a cat, ducked suddenly 
 and ran at the yeoman, gripping him round the 
 waist with long, thin arms. 
 
 There was no sound as they struggled this 
 long, eel-like thing, in its mask and crimson robe 
 twining round his sturdy opponent like some para- 
 site writhing with evil life. 
 
 John Hull rocked, striving to bend forward and 
 get a grip of his antagonist. But it was useless. 
 He could do nothing, and he was being slowly 
 forced backwards towards the door. 
 
 There was horror upon the man's brown face, 
 horror of this silent, clinging thing which fought 
 with fury, and in a fashion that none other had 
 fought with him in all his life. 
 
 Then, as he realised what was happening, he 
 stood up for a moment, staggering backwards as 
 he did so, pulled out the dagger from his belt and 
 struck three great blows downwards into the thin 
 scarlet back, burying the steel up to the hilt at 
 each fierce stroke. 
 
 There was a sudden " Oh," quite quiet and a 
 little surprised, the sort of sound a man might 
 make when he sees a friend come unexpectedly 
 into his room. . . . 
 
 That was all. It was over in some thirty sec-
 
 HEY HO! AND A RUMBELOW! 197 
 
 onds, there was a convulsive wriggle on the floor, 
 and the man, if indeed it was a man, lay on its back 
 stiff in death. The mask of black velvet had been 
 torn off in the struggle, and they saw a tiny white 
 face, painted and hairless, set on the end of a mus- 
 cular and stringy neck a monster lying there in 
 soulless death. 
 
 "Have you killed it?" Commendone asked, 
 suddenly. 
 
 " Yes, master." Hull's head was averted from 
 what lay upon the carpet, even while he was push- 
 ing it towards the heap of cushions at the side 
 of the room. Leaning over the body, he took a 
 cushion from the heap a gaudy thing of green 
 and orange and wiped his boot. 
 
 " Listen ! " Johnnie said, still with his hand 
 covering the woman's face. 
 
 They listened intently. Not a sound was to be 
 heard. 
 
 " As I take it," Commendone answered, " there 
 are no men in the house except only those two 
 we have come to seek. The alarm hath not been 
 given, and that eunuque is dead. We must settle 
 Madame here." He laughed a grim, menacing 
 laugh as he spoke. 
 
 Immediately the figure in his hands began to 
 writhe and tremble, the feet beat a dull tattoo upon 
 the carpet, the eyes protruded from their layers 
 of paint, a snorting, snuffling noise came from be- 
 neath Commendone's hand. He caught it away 
 instantly, shuddering with disgust.
 
 198 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 " Kill me not! kill me not! " the old woman 
 gasped. " They are upstairs, the King and his 
 friend. The girl is there. I know nothing of her, 
 she was brought to me in the dark by the King's 
 servants. Kill me not; I will stay silent." Her 
 voice failed. She fell suddenly back in her chair, 
 and looked at them with indescribable horror in 
 her eyes. 
 
 " I'll see to her, master," Hull said in a quiet 
 voice, his face still distorted with mastiff-like fury. 
 
 He caught up his blood-stained dagger from 
 the floor, stepped to the stiffened corpse, curved 
 by tetanus into a bow, and ripped up a long piece 
 of the gown which covered it. Quickly and silently 
 he tied the old woman's ankles together, her hands 
 behind her back the podgy wrists would not meet, 
 nor near it and again he went to the corpse for 
 further bonds. 
 
 " And now to stop her mouth," he said, " or 
 she will be calling." 
 
 Commendone took out his handkerchief. 
 " Here," he said. In an instant Hull had rolled 
 it into a ball, pressed it between the painted lips, 
 and tied it in its place with the last strip of velvet. 
 
 All this had taken but hardly a minute. Then 
 he stood up and looked at his master. " The time 
 comes," he said. 
 
 Johnnie nodded, and walked slowly, with quiet 
 footsteps, towards the door in the arras at the other 
 side of the room. 
 
 He felt warily for the handle, found it, turned
 
 HEY HO! AND A RUMBELOW! 199 
 
 it gently, and saw a narrow stairway stretching 
 upwards, and lit by a lamp somewhere above. 
 The stair was uncarpeted, but it was of old and 
 massive oak, and, drawing his sword, he crept 
 cautiously up, Hull following him like a cat. 
 
 They found themselves in a corridor with 
 doors on each side, each door painted with a big 
 white number. It was lit, warm, and very still. 
 
 Johnnie put his fingers to his lips, and both men 
 listened intently. 
 
 The silence was absolute. They might have 
 been in an empty house. No single indication of 
 human movement came to them as they stood 
 there. 
 
 For nearly a minute they remained motionless. 
 Their eyes were fixed and horror-struck, their ears 
 strained to an intensity of listening. 
 
 Then, at last, they heard a sound, quite unex- 
 pectedly and very near. 
 
 It came from the door immediately upon their 
 right, which was painted with the number "3," 
 and was simply the click of a sword in its scabbard. 
 Johnnie took two noiseless steps to the door, set- 
 tled his sword in his hand, flung it open, and 
 leapt in. 
 
 He was in a large low room panelled round its 
 sides, the panels painted white, the headings picked 
 out in crimson. A carpet covered the floor, a low 
 fire burnt upon a wide open hearth. There were 
 two or three padded sofa lounges here and there, 
 and in front of the fire-place in riding clothes,
 
 200 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 though without his hat or gloves, stood Sir John 
 Shelton. 
 
 There was a dead silence for several seconds, 
 only broken by the click of the outer door, as Hull 
 pushed it into its place, and shot the bolt. 
 
 Shelton grew very white, but said nothing. 
 
 With his sword ready to assume the guard, 
 Johnnie walked to the centre of the room. 
 
 The bully's face grew whiter still. Little drops 
 of moisture glistened on his forehead, and on his 
 blonde moustache. 
 
 Then he spoke. 
 
 "Ah I Mr. Commendone!" he said, with a 
 horrid little laugh. " News from Court, I sup- 
 pose? Is it urgent? His Grace is engaged within, 
 but I will acquaint him. His Grace is en- 
 gaged " There came a titter of discovery and 
 
 fear from his lips. His words died away into 
 silence. 
 
 Johnnie advanced towards him, his sword 
 pointed at his heart. 
 
 " What does this mean, Mr. Commendone? " 
 
 " Death." 
 
 The man's sword was out in a moment. The 
 touch of it seemed to bring the life back to him, 
 and with never a word, he sprang at Commen- 
 done. He was a brave man enough, a clever 
 fencer too, but he knew now that his hour had 
 come. He read it in the fixed face before him, 
 that face of frozen fury. He knew it directly the 
 blades touched. Indeed he was no match for
 
 HEY HO! AND A RUMBELOW! 201 
 
 Commendone, with his long training, and clean, 
 abstemious life. But even had he been an in- 
 finitely superior swordsman, he knew that he would 
 have had no chance in that moment. There was 
 something behind the young man's arm which no 
 Sir John Shelton could resist. 
 
 The blades rattled together and struck sparks 
 in the lamp-light. Click! Clatter! Click! 
 " Ah ! " the long-drawn breath, a breath surging 
 up from the very entrails Click! Clatter! 
 Click! 
 
 The fierce cold fury of that fight was far be- 
 yond anything in war, or the ordinary duello. It 
 was a entrance, there was only one end to it, and 
 that came very swiftly. 
 
 Commendone was not fighting for safety. He 
 cared not, and knew nothing, of what the other 
 might have in reserve. He did not even wait to 
 test his adversary's tricks of fence, as was only 
 cautious and usual. Nothing could have with- 
 stood him, and in less than two minutes from the 
 time the men had engaged, the end came. Com- 
 mendone made a half-lunge, which was parried by 
 the dagger in Sir John's left hand, and then, quick 
 as lightning, his sword was through Shelton's 
 throat, through and through. 
 
 The Captain fell like a log, hiccoughed, and lay 
 still. 
 
 " Two," said John Hull. 
 
 Johnnie withdrew his sword, holding it down- 
 wards, watching it drip; then he turned to his
 
 202 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 servant. " Sir John was here on guard," he said; 
 " this is the ante-room to where She is. But I see 
 no door, save only the one by which we entered." 
 
 " Hist ! " Hull replied, almost before his master 
 had finished speaking. 
 
 He pointed to the opposite wall, and both men 
 saw a long, narrow bar of orange light, a mo- 
 mentarily widening slit, opening in a panel. 
 
 The panel swung back entirely, forming a sort 
 of hatch or window, and through it, yellow, livid, 
 and terror-struck, looked the face of the King. 
 
 Without a word John Hull rushed towards that 
 part of the wall. When he was within a yard of 
 it he gathered himself up and leapt against it, like 
 a battering-ram. There was a crash, as the con- 
 cealed door was torn away from its hinges. Hull 
 lay measuring his length upon the floor, and John- 
 nie leaped over the prostrate form into the room 
 beyond. 
 
 This is what he saw : 
 
 In one corner of the room, close to a large couch 
 covered with rich silks, Elizabeth Taylor stood 
 against the wall. They had dressed her in a long 
 white robe of the Grecian sort, with a purple 
 border round the hem of the skirt, the short sleeves 
 and the low neck. Her face was a white wedge of 
 terror, her arms were upraised, the palms of her 
 hands turned outwards, as if to ward off some 
 horror unspeakable. 
 
 King Philip, at the other corner of the room, 
 standing by the debris of the broken door, was
 
 HEY HO! AND A RUMBELOW! 203 
 
 perfectly motionless, save only for his head, which 
 was pushed forward and moved from side to side 
 with a slow reptilian movement. 
 
 He was dressed entirely in black, his clothes in 
 disarray, and the thin hair upon his head was 
 matted in fantastic elf-locks with sweat. 
 
 He saw the set face of Commendone, his drawn 
 and bloody sword. He saw the thick leathern- 
 coated figure of the yeoman rise from the floor. 
 Both were confronting him, and he knew in a flash 
 that he was trapped. 
 
 Johnnie looked at his master for a moment, 
 and then turned swiftly. " Elizabeth," he said, 
 "Elizabeth!" 
 
 At his voice the girl's hands fell from her face. 
 She looked at him for a second in wild amaze- 
 ment, and then she cried out, in a high, quavering 
 voice of welcome, " Johnnie ! Johnnie ! you've 
 come ! " 
 
 He put his arms about her, soothing, stroking 
 her hair, speaking in a low, caressing voice, as a 
 man might speak to a child. And all the time his 
 heart, which had been frozen into deadly purpose, 
 was leaping, bounding, and drumming within him 
 so furiously, so strongly, that it seemed as if his 
 body could hardly contain it. This mortal frame 
 must surely be dissolved and swept away by such 
 a tumult of feeling. 
 
 She had only seen him once. She had never 
 received his little posy of white flowers, but he 
 was " Johnnie " to her.
 
 204 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 " They have not hurt you, my maid? " he said. 
 " Tell me they have not harmed you." 
 
 She shook her head. Happiness sponged away 
 the horror which had been upon her face. " No, 
 Johnnie," she answered, clinging, her fingers 
 clutching for a firmer hold of him. " No, John- 
 nie, only they took me away, and Alice, that is my 
 maid. They took me away violently, and I have 
 been penned up here in this place until that man 
 came and said strange things to me, and would 
 embrace me." 
 
 " Sit you here, my darling maid," the young 
 man said, " sit you here," guiding her to the couch 
 hard by. " He shall do you no harm. Thou art 
 with me, and thy good friend there, thy father's 
 yeoman." 
 
 She had not seen John Hull before, but now she 
 looked up at him over Johnnie's arm, and smiled. 
 " 'Tis all well now," she murmured, drooping and 
 half-faint. " Hull is here, and thou also, Johnnie." 
 
 Even in the wild joy of finding her, and know- 
 ing instinctively that she was to be his, that she 
 had thought of him so much, Commendone lost 
 nothing of his sang-froid. 
 
 He knew that desperate as had been his adven- 
 ture when he started out from the Tower, it was 
 now more desperate still. He and Hull had taken 
 their lives in their hands when they went to Duck 
 Lane. Their enterprise had so far been success- 
 ful, their rescue complete, but and he was in no 
 way mistaken the enterprise was not over, and his
 
 HEY HO! AND A RUMBELOW! 205 
 
 life was worth even a smaller price than it had 
 been before. 
 
 With that, he turned from the girl, and strode 
 up to the King, before whom John Hull had been 
 standing, grimly silent. 
 
 Commendone's sword was still in his hand; he 
 had not relinquished it even when he had em- 
 braced Elizabeth, and now he stood before his 
 master, the point upon the floor, his young face 
 set into judgment. 
 
 " And now, Sire? " he said, shortly and quickly. 
 
 Philip's face was flushed with shame and fear, 
 but at these sharp words, he drew himself to his 
 full height. 
 
 " Senor," he said, " you are going to do some- 
 thing which will damn you for ever in the sight 
 of God and Our Lady. You are going to slay 
 the anointed of the Lord. I will meet death at 
 your hands, and doubtless for my sins I have 
 deserved death; but, nevertheless, you will be 
 damned." 
 
 Then he threw his arms out wide, and there 
 came a sob into his voice as the liquid Spanish 
 poured from him. 
 
 " But to die thus ! " he said. " Mother of God ! 
 to die thus ! unshrived, with my sins upon me ! " 
 
 Johnnie tapped impatiently with the point of his 
 sword upon the floor. 
 
 " Kill you, Sire? " he said. " I have sworn the 
 oath of allegiance to Her Grace, the Queen, and 
 eke to you. I break no oaths. Kill you I will not.
 
 206 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 Kill you I cannot. I dare not raise my hand against 
 the King." 
 
 He dropped on one knee. " Sire," he said 
 again, " I am your Gentleman, and you will go 
 free from this vile house as you came into it." 
 
 Then he rose, took his sword, snapped it across 
 his knee staining his hands in doing so and flung 
 it into the corner of the room. 
 
 " And that is that," he said, with a different 
 manner. " So now as man to man, as from one 
 gentleman to another, hear my voice. You are a 
 gentleman of high degree, and you are King also 
 of half this globe, named, and glad to be named 
 His Most Catholic Majesty. Of your kingship 
 I am not at this moment aware. I am not Royal. 
 But as a gentleman and a Christian, I tell you to 
 your face that you are low and vile. You deceive 
 a wife that loveth you. You take maidens to force 
 them to your will. If you were a simple gentleman 
 I would kill you where you stood. No! If thou 
 wert a simple gentleman, I would not cross swords 
 with thee, because thou art unworthy of my sword. 
 I would tell my man here to slit thee and have 
 done. But as thou art a King ' he spat upon 
 the floor in his disgust " and I am sworn to thee, 
 I cannot punish thee as I would, thou son of hell, 
 thou very scurvy, lying, and most dirty knave." 
 
 The King's face was a dead white now. He 
 lifted his hands and beat with them upon his 
 breast. " Mea culpa! Mea ctdpa! What have 
 I done that I should endure this? "
 
 HEY HO! AND A RUMBELOW! 207 
 
 " What no King should ever do, what no gentle- 
 man could ever do." 
 
 The King's hands dropped to his side. 
 
 " I am wearing no sword," he said quietly, tl as 
 you see, Senor, but doubtless you will provide me 
 with one. If you will meet me here and now, as a 
 simple gentleman, then I give you licence to kill 
 me. I will defend myself as best I am able." 
 
 Johnnie hesitated, irresolutely. All the training 
 of his life was up in arms with the wishes and 
 the emotions of the moment until he heard the 
 voice of common sense. 
 
 John Hull broke in. The man had not under- 
 stood one word of the Spanish, but he had realised 
 its meaning, and the keen, untutored intelligence, 
 focused upon the flying minutes, saw very clearly 
 into the future. 
 
 " Master," he said, " cannot ye see that all this 
 is but chivalry and etiquette of courts? Cannot 
 ye see that if ye kill His Highness, England will 
 not be big enough to hide thee? Cannot ye see, 
 also, that if thou dost not kill him, but let him go, 
 England will not be big enough to hide thee either? 
 Master, we must settle this business with speed, 
 and get far away before the hue and cry, for I tell 
 thee, that this bloody night's work will bring thee, 
 and Mistress Elizabeth, and myself to the rack 
 and worse torture, to the stake, and worse than 
 that. Haste ! speed ! we must be gone. There is 
 but one thing to be done." 
 
 " And what is that, John Hull? "
 
 208 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 "Why, thou art lost in a dream, master! To 
 tie up His Highness so that he cannot move or 
 speak for several hours. To send that Spaniard 
 which is his man, away from the door outside, and 
 then to fly from this accursed house, you, I, and 
 the little mistress, and hide ourselves, if God will 
 let us, from the wrath to come." 
 
 The quick, decisive words were so absolutely 
 true, so utterly unanswerable, that Johnnie nodded, 
 though he shuddered as he did so. 
 
 Upon that, John Hull strode up to the King. 
 
 " Put your hands behind you, Sire," he said. 
 
 ; The King was wearing a dagger in his belt. As 
 Hull came up to him, his face was transfixed with 
 fury. He drew it out and lunged at the man's 
 heart. 
 
 Hull was standing a little obliquely to the blow, 
 the dagger glanced upon his leather surcoat, cut a 
 long groove, and glanced harmlessly away. 
 
 With that, Hull raised his great brown fist and 
 smote King Philip in the face, driving him to the 
 floor. He was on him in a moment, crouching 
 over him with one hand upon the Royal throat. 
 
 "Quick, master; quick, master! Quick, mas- 
 ter! Bonds! Bonds! We must e'en truss him 
 up, as we did her ladyship below." 
 
 It was done. The King was tied and bound. 
 It was done as gently as possible, and they did not 
 gag him. 
 
 Together they laid him upon the floor. 
 
 Slow, half-strangled, and venomous words came,
 
 HEY HO! AND A RUMBELOW! 209 
 
 came in gouts of poisonous sound, which made the 
 sweet Spanish hideous. . . . 
 
 " The whole world, Mr. Commendone, will not 
 be wide enough to hide you, your paramour, and 
 this villain from my vengeance." 
 
 Johnnie would have heard anything but that one 
 word that shameful wor-d. At the word " para- 
 mour," hardly knowing what he did, he lifted 
 his hand and struck the bound and helpless King 
 upon the face. 
 
 A timepiece from the next room beat. It was 
 one o'clock in the morning. 
 
 Johnnie turned to Elizabeth. " Come, sweet- 
 heart," he said, in a hurried, agitated voice, " come 
 away from this place." 
 
 He took her by the arm, half leading, half sup- 
 porting her, and together they passed out of the 
 room, without so much as a backward glance at the 
 bound figure upon the floor. As they went through 
 the broken doorway in the ante-room, John Hull 
 pressed after them, and walked on the other side 
 of Elizabeth, talking to her quickly in a cheery 
 voice. 
 
 As he looked over the girl's head at his servant, 
 Johnnie knew what Hull was doing. He was hid- 
 ing the corpse of Sir John Shelton from the girl's 
 view. 
 
 They came into the corridor, and descended 
 the stairs. Just as they were about to open the 
 door in the arras, Hull stopped them upon the 
 lowest step.
 
 210 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 " I will go first, master," he said, and again 
 Johnnie realised what was meant. 
 
 When a few seconds afterwards, he and Eliza- 
 beth entered the tapestry-hung room; the great 
 pile of cushions upon the left-hand side was a 
 little higher, but that was all. 
 
 The girl raised her hands to her throat. " Oh," 
 she said, " Johnnie, thank God you came ! I can- 
 not bear it. Take me home, take me home now, 
 to Mr. Cressemer and Aunt Catherine." 
 
 Johnnie took her hands in his own, holding her 
 very firmly by the wrists, and looked full into her 
 face. 
 
 " Dear," he said, " you cannot go to Mr. Cres- 
 semer's. You know nothing of what has happened 
 this night. You do not realise anything at all. 
 Will you trust in me? " 
 
 " Yes," she faltered, though her eyes were 
 firm. 
 
 " Then, if you do that, and if God helps us," 
 he said, with a gasp in his throat, " we may yet 
 win to safety and life, though I doubt it. Sweet- 
 heart, it is right that I should tell you that man 
 upstairs in the room is the King Consort, husband 
 of Her Grace the Queen." 
 
 The girl gave a loud, startled cry, and instantly 
 Commendone saw comprehension flash into her 
 face. 
 
 " Sit here," he said to her, putting a chair for 
 her. 
 
 Then he turned. Behind the ebony table, mo-
 
 HEY HO! AND A RUMBELOW! 211 
 
 tionless, vast, and purple in the face, was the great 
 mummy of the procuress. 
 
 " What shall we do? " he said to Hull. 
 ' The first thing, master, is to send the Spanish 
 valet away; that you must do, and therein lies 
 our chance." 
 
 Johnnie nodded. He passed out into the pas- 
 sage, went to the front door, pulled aside three 
 huge bolts which worked with a lever very silently, 
 for they were all oiled, and let in a puff of fresh 
 wind from the street. 
 
 For a moment he could see nothing in the dark. 
 He called in Spanish : " Torrome, Torrome, where 
 are you? Come here at once." He had hardly 
 done so when the cloaked figure of the valet came 
 out from behind a buttress. 
 
 " Ah, Serior," he said, " I am perished with this 
 cold wind. His Highness is ready, then? " 
 
 Johnnie shook his head. " No," he answered, 
 " His Highness and Sir John are still engaged, 
 but I am sent to tell you that you may go home. 
 I and my man will attend His Highness to the 
 .Tower, but we shall not come until dawn. Go 
 you back to the King's lodging, and if His 
 Highness doth not come in due time, keep all 
 inquiries at bay. He will be sick you under- 
 stand?" 
 
 Torrome nodded. 
 
 " Then get you to horse, leave His Highness's 
 horse with ours, and speed back to the Tower as 
 soon as may be."
 
 212 HOUSE OF TOPxMENT 
 
 Commendone waited until the man had 
 mounted, very glad to be relieved of his long wait- 
 ing, and was trotting towards London Bridge. 
 Then he closed the door, pulled the lever, and 
 went back into the red, scented room. 
 
 He saw that Hull had cut the strips of red 
 velvet that bound Madame La Motte, the gag 
 was taken from her mouth, and he was holding a 
 goblet of wine to the thick, swollen, and bleeding 
 lips. 
 
 There was a long deep sigh and gurgle. The 
 woman shuddered, gasped again, and then some 
 light and understanding came into her eyes, and 
 she stared out in front of her. 
 
 " What are we to do? " Johnnie asked his serv- 
 ant once more. 
 
 'What have ye done, masters?" came in a 
 dry whisper from the old woman it was like the 
 noise a man makes walking through parched grass 
 in summer. '' What have ye done, masters? " 
 
 Hull answered: "We have killed your servitor, 
 as ye saw," he said, with a half glance towards 
 the piled cushions against the wall. " Sir John 
 Shelton is dead also; Mr. Commendone killed him 
 in fair fight." 
 
 "And the King, the King?" the whisper was 
 dreadful in its anxiety and fear. 
 
 " He lieth bound in that room of shame where 
 you took my lady." 
 
 There was silence for a moment, and the old 
 woman glanced backwards and forwards at Hull
 
 HEY HO! AND A RUMBELOW! 213 
 
 and Commendone. What she read in their faces 
 terrified her, and again she shook horribly. 
 
 " Sir," she said to Commendone, " if this be 
 my last hour, then so mote it be, but I swear that 
 I knew nothing. I was told at high noon yester- 
 day that a girl was to be sent here, that Sir John 
 and the valet of His Highness would bring her. 
 I knew, and know nothing of who she is. I did 
 but do as I have always done in my trade. And, 
 messieurs, it was the King's command. Now ye 
 have come, and there is the lady unharmed, please 
 God." 
 
 " Please God! " Johnnie said brutally. ' You 
 hag of hell, who are you to use that name? " 
 
 The fat, artificially whitened hands, with their 
 glittering rings fell upon the table with a dull 
 thud. 
 
 "Who am I, indeed?" she said. "You may 
 well ask that, but I tell you others of my women 
 received this lady. I have not seen her until now." 
 
 " Indeed she hath not," came in a low, startled 
 voice from Elizabeth. 
 
 " Sir," La Motte went on, " I see now that 
 this is the end of my sinful life. Kill me an ye 
 wish, I care not, for I am dead already, and so 
 also are you, and the young mistress there, and 
 your man too." 
 
 'What mean you?" Johnnie said. 
 
 ' What mean I? Why, upstairs lieth the King, 
 bound. We all have two or three miserable hours, 
 and then we shall be found, and what we shall
 
 214 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 endure will pass the bitterness of death before 
 death comes. That, messieurs, you know very 
 well. 
 
 " So what matters it," she continued, her ex- 
 traordinary vitality overcoming everything, her 
 voice growing stronger each moment, " what mat- 
 ters it! Let us drink wine one to the other, to 
 death ! in this house of death, in this house to 
 which worse than death cometh apace." 
 
 She reached out for the flagon of wine before 
 her with a cackle of laughter. 
 
 It was too true. Commendone knew it well. 
 He looked at Hull, and together they both looked 
 at Elizabeth Taylor. 
 
 The girl, in the long white robe which they had 
 put on her, rose from her seat and came between 
 them, tall, slim, and now composed. She put one 
 hand upon Johnnie's shoulder and laid the other 
 with an affectionate gesture upon Hull's arm. 
 
 " Look you," she said, " Mr. Commendone, and 
 you, John Hull, my father's friend, what matters 
 it at all? I see now all that hath passed. There 
 is no hope for us, none at all. Therefore let us 
 praise God, pray to Him, and die. We shall soon 
 be with my father in heaven; and, sure, he seeth 
 all this, and is waiting for us." 
 
 John Hull's face was knitted into thought. He 
 hardly seemed to hear the girl's voice at all. 
 
 " Mistress Lizzie," he said, almost peevishly, 
 " pr'ythee be silent a moment. Master, look you. 
 'Tis this way. They will come again and find His
 
 HEY HO! AND A RUMBELOW! 215 
 
 Highness when he returneth not to the Tower, 
 but he will dare do nothing against us openly for 
 fear of the Queen's Grace. Were it known that he 
 had come to such a stew as this, the Queen would 
 ne'er give him her confidence again. She would 
 ne'er forgive him. Doubtless the vengeance will 
 pursue us, but it cannot be put in motion for some 
 hours until the King is rescued, and has had time 
 to confer with his familiars and think out a plan. 
 After that, when they catch us, nothing will avail 
 us, because nothing we can say will be believed. 
 But we are not caught yet." 
 
 Johnnie, who for the last few moments had been 
 quite without hope, looked up quickly at his serv- 
 ant's words. 
 
 'You are right," he said, "in what you say; 
 there speaketh good sense. Very well, then we 
 must get away at once. But where shall we go? 
 If we go to His Worship's house, we shall soon be 
 discovered, and bring His Worship and Mistress 
 Catherine with us to the rack and stake. If we 
 go to my father's house in Kent, he will not be 
 able to hide us; it will be the first place to which 
 they will look." 
 
 He spread his arms out in a gesture of despair. 
 
 " You see," he said, " we in this room to-night 
 have no refuge nor harbour. For a few hours, 
 a day it may be, we can lie lost from vengeance. 
 But after that no earthly power can save us. We 
 have done the thing for which there is no pardon." 
 
 " I don't like, master, to wait for death in this
 
 216 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 way," Hull answered. " But art wiser than I, and 
 so it must be. But pr'ythee let us have a little 
 course. The hounds may come, but let us run 
 before them, and then, if death is at the end of 
 it, well well, there's an end on't; and so say I." 
 
 There was a voice behind them, a voice speak- 
 ing in broken but fluent English. 
 
 " You have broken into my house, you have 
 killed my servant, you have prevented me from 
 calling for help from you, a King lies bound in 
 my upper chamber, v'laf And now you go to run 
 a little course, to scurry hither and thither before 
 the dogs are at your throats. You are all prepared 
 to die. I also am ready to die if it must be so, 
 but it need not be so if you will listen to me." 
 
 " What mean you? " Johnnie said. 
 
 As he spoke he saw, with a mingling of surprise 
 and disgust, that the big painted face of Madame 
 La Motte was full of animation and excitement. 
 She seemed as if the events of the last hour had 
 but stirred her to endeavour, had given a fillip to 
 her sluggish life. 
 
 More astonishing than all, she rose from her 
 chair, gathering together her vast, unwieldy bulk, 
 came round from behind the table, and joined their 
 conference almost with vivacity. 
 
 " Ttens" she said, " there are other countries 
 than this. An army beaten in an engagement is 
 not always routed. Retreat is possible within 
 friendly frontiers." 
 
 The horrible old creature had such a strength
 
 HEY HO! AND A RUMBELOW! 217 
 
 and personality about her that, with her blood- 
 stained mouth, her great panting body, her trem- 
 bling jewelled hands, she yet in that moment domi- 
 nated them all. 
 
 ' There is one last chance. At dawn and dawn 
 is near by the ship St. lago sails from the Thames 
 for foreign parts. The master of the ship, Clark, 
 is "she lowered her voice and spoke only to 
 Commendone " is a client of mine here. He is 
 much indebted to me in many ways, and ere day 
 breaks we may all be aboard of her and sailing 
 away. What is't to be, messieurs? " 
 
 They all looked at each other for a moment in 
 silence. 
 
 Then Elizabeth put her arms round the old 
 woman's neck and kissed her. 
 
 " Madame," she said, tc surely God put this into 
 into your heart to save us all. I will come with 
 you, and Johnnie will come, and good John Hull 
 withal, and so we may escape and live." 
 
 The old Frenchwoman patted the slim girl upon 
 the back. " Bien, cherie," she said, " that's a 
 thing done. I will look after you and be a mother 
 to you, and so we will all be happy." 
 
 Commendone and his servant looked on in 
 amazement. At this dreadful hour, in this moment 
 of extremest peril, the wicked old woman seemed to 
 take charge of them all. She did not seem wicked 
 now, only genial and competent, though there was 
 a tremor of fear in her voice and her movements 
 were hurried and decisive.
 
 2i8 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 " Jean-Marie," she called suddenly, and then, 
 " Phut! I forgot. It is under the cushions. Well, 
 we must even do without a messenger. Have you 
 money, Master Commendone?" 
 
 Johnnie shook his head. " Not here." 
 
 "Mais, mon Dieu! I have a plenty," she an- 
 swered, " which is good for all of us. Wait you 
 here." 
 
 She hurried away, and went up the stair to- 
 wards the rooms above. 
 
 "Shall I follow her, master?" Hull said, his 
 hand upon his dagger. 
 
 Johnnie shook his head. 
 
 " No," he answered, " she is in our boat. She 
 must sink or swim with us." 
 
 They waited there for five or ten minutes, hear- 
 ing the heavy noise of Madame's progress above 
 their heads. They waited there, and as they did 
 so the room seemed to become cold, their blood ran 
 slowly within them, the three grouped themselves 
 close together as if for mutual warmth and con- 
 solation. 
 
 Then they heard a high-pitched voice at the 
 top of the stairs. 
 
 " Send your man up, Monsieur, send your man 
 up. I have no strength to lift this bag." 
 
 At a nod from Johnnie, Hull ran up the stairs. 
 In a moment more he came down, staggering 
 under the burden of a great leather wallet slung 
 over his shoulder, and was followed by Madame 
 La Motte, now covered in a fur cloak and hood.
 
 HEY HO! AND A RUMBELOW! 219 
 
 She held another on her arm. " Put it on, put 
 it on," she said to Elizabeth, " quickly. We must 
 get out of this. The dawn comes, the wind fresh- 
 ens, we have but an hour." 
 
 And then in the ghostly dawn the four people 
 left the House of Shame, left it with the red door 
 open to the winds, and hurried away towards the 
 river. 
 
 None of them spoke. The old dame in her fur 
 robe shuffled on with extraordinary vitality, past 
 straggling houses, past inns from which nautical 
 signs were hung, for a quarter of a mile towards 
 the mud-marsh which fringed the pool of Thames. 
 She walked down a causeway of stones, sunk in 
 the mud and gravel, to the edge of the water. 
 
 It was now high tide and the four came out in 
 the grey light upon a little stone quay where some 
 sheds were set. 
 
 In front of one of them, heavily covered with 
 tar, a lantern was still burning, wan and yellow 
 in the coming light of day. 
 
 Madame La Motte kicked at the door of this 
 shed with her high-heeled shoe. There was no 
 response. She opened the door, burst into a stuffy, 
 foetid place where two men were lying upon coils 
 of rope. She stirred them with her foot, but they 
 were in heavy sleep, and only groaned and snored 
 in answer. 
 
 " I'll wake them, Madame," Johnnie said, " I'll 
 stir them up," his voice full of that thin, high note 
 which comes to those who feel themselves hunted.
 
 220 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 He clapped his hand to his side to find his sword; 
 his fingers touched an empty scabbard. Then he 
 remembered. 
 
 " I am swordless," he cried, forgetting every- 
 thing else as he realised it. 
 
 Behind him there was a thud and a clanking, as 
 John Hull dropped the leathern bag he held. 
 
 " Say not so, master," he said, and held out to 
 the young man a sword in a scabbard of crimson 
 leather, its hilt of gold wire, its guard set with 
 emeralds and rubies, the belt which hung down on 
 either side of the blade, of polished leather studded 
 with little stars and bosses of gold. 
 
 "What is this?" 
 
 " Look you, sir, as we passed out of Madame's 
 room, I saw this sword leaning in a corner of the 
 wall by the door. His Highness had left it there, 
 doubtless, ere he went upstairs. ' So,' says I to 
 myself, ' this is true spoil of war, and in especial 
 for my master! ' 
 
 Johnnie took the sword, looked at it for a mo- 
 ment, and then unbuttoned his own belt and girded 
 it on. 
 
 " So shall it be for a remembrance to me," he 
 said, " for now and always." 
 
 But he did not need to use it. Madame's exer- 
 tions had been sufficient. Her shrill, angry voice 
 had wakened the watermen. They rose to their 
 feet, wiped their eyes, and, seeing persons of qual- 
 ity before them, they hastened down the little hard 
 and embarked the company in their wherry. Then
 
 HEY HO! AND A RUMBELOW! 221 
 
 they pulled out into the stream. The tide was 
 running fast and free towards the Nore, but they 
 made for a large ship of quite six hundred tons, 
 which was at anchor in mid-stream. When they 
 came up to it, and caught the hanging ladder upon 
 the quarter with a boat-hook, the deck was already 
 busy with seamen in red caps, and a tarry, bearded 
 old salt, his head tied up in a woollen cloth, was 
 standing on the high poop, and cursing the men 
 below. Madame La Motte saw him first. She put 
 two fat fingers in her mouth and gave a long 
 whistle, like a street boy. 
 
 The captain looked round him, up into the rig- 
 ging where the sailors were already busy upon the 
 yards, looked to his right, looked to his left, and 
 then straight down from the poop upon the star- 
 board quarter, and saw Madame La Motte. He 
 stumbled down the steps on to the main deck, and 
 peered over the bulwarks. " Mother of God! " 
 he cried, " and what's this, so early in the morn- 
 ing?" 
 
 The old Frenchwoman shrieked up at him in her 
 broken English. " Tiens! Tiens! Send your 
 men to help us up, Captain Clark. Thou art not 
 awake. Do as I tell you." 
 
 The captain rubbed his eyes again, called out 
 some orders, and in a moment or two Johnnie had 
 mounted the ladder, and stood upon the deck. 
 
 " Now the ladies," he said in a quick, authorita- 
 tive voice. 
 
 Elizabeth came up to the side, and then it was
 
 222 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 the question of Madame La Motte. John Hull 
 stood in the tossing, heaving wherry, and gave the 
 woman her first impetus. She clawed the side 
 ropes, cursing and spitting like a cat as she did so, 
 mounting the low waist of the ship like a great 
 black slug. As soon as she got within arm's length 
 of the captain and a couple of sailors, they caught 
 her and heaved her on board as if she had been a 
 sack, and within ten seconds afterwards John Hull, 
 with the leather bag over his shoulder, stood on 
 the deck beside them. Johnnie felt in his pocket 
 and found some coins there. He flung them over 
 to the watermen, and they fell in the centre of the 
 boat as it sheered off. 
 
 Mr. Clark, captain of the St. lago, was now 
 very wide awake. 
 
 " I will thank ye, Madame," he said, " to ex- 
 plain your boarding of my ship with your friends." 
 
 The quick-witted Frenchwoman went up to him, 
 put her fat arms round his neck, pulled his head 
 down, and spoke in his ear for a minute. When 
 she had finished the captain raised his head, 
 scratched his ear, and looked doubtfully at Com- 
 mendone, Elizabeth, and John Hull. 
 
 " Well," he said, in a thick voice, " since you say 
 it, I suppose I must, though there is little accom- 
 modation on board for the likes of you. You pay 
 your passage, Madame, I suppose?" 
 
 " Phut! I will make you rich." 
 
 The captain's eyes contracted with leery cunning. 
 
 " J^here is more in this than meets mine eye
 
 HEY HO ! AND A RUMBELOW ! 223 
 
 that ye should be so eager to leave London. What 
 have ye done, that is what I would like to know? 
 I must inquire into this, though we are due to sail. 
 I must send a man ashore to speak with the 
 Sheriff- 
 
 ' The Sheriff ! And where would any of your 
 dirty sailors find the Sheriff at this hour of the 
 morning? You'll lose the tide, Master Clark, and 
 you'll lose your money, too." 
 
 The captain scratched his head again. 
 
 " Natheless, I am not sure," he began. 
 
 Then Johnnie stepped forward. 
 
 "Captain Clark?" he said, in short, quick ac- 
 cents of authority. 
 
 ' That am I," said the captain. 
 
 ' Very good. Then you will take these ladies 
 and bestow them as well as you are able, and you 
 will set sail at once. This ship, I believe, belongs 
 to His Worship the Alderman, Master Robert 
 Cressemer? " 
 
 The captain touched his forehead. 
 ' Yes, sir, indeed she does," he answered, in a 
 very different voice. 
 
 Johnnie, from where he had been standing, had 
 looked down into the waist, and had seen the great 
 bags of wool with the Alderman's trade-mark upon 
 them. ' Very well," he said, " you'll heave an- 
 chor at once, and this is my warrant." 
 
 He put his hand into his doublet and pulled 
 out the Alderman's letter. He showed him the last 
 paragraph of it.
 
 224 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 It was enough. 
 
 " 1 crave your pardon, master," the captain said. 
 " I did not know that you came from His Wor- 
 ship. That old Moll, I was ready to oblige her, 
 though it seemed a queer thing her coming aboard 
 just as we were setting sail. Why did you not 
 speak at first, sir? Well, all is right. The wind 
 is favourable, and off we go." 
 
 Turning away from Johnnie, he rushed up to 
 the poop again, put his hand to his mouth, and 
 bellowed out a crescendo of orders. 
 
 The yards swarmed with men, there was a 
 " Heave ho and a rumbelow," a clanking of the 
 winch as the anchor came up, a flapping of un- 
 furled topsails at the three square-rigged masts, 
 and in five minutes more the St. lago began to 
 move down the river. 
 
 Johnnie walked along the open planking of the 
 waist, mounted to the poop, and heard the " lap, 
 lap " and ripple of the river waves against the 
 rudder. He turned and saw not far away to his 
 left the White Tower growing momentarily more 
 distinct and clear in the dawn. 
 
 The whole of the Palace and Citadel was clear 
 to view, the two flags of England and Spain were 
 just hoisted, running out before the breeze. To 
 his left, as he turned right round, were huddled 
 houses at the southern end of London Bridge. In 
 one of them, empty, lit and blown through by 
 the morning winds, His Most Catholic Majesty 
 was lying, silent and helpless.
 
 HEY HO! AND A RUMBELOW! 225 
 
 He turned again, looked forward, and took in a 
 great breath of the salt air. 
 
 The cordage began to creak, the sails to belly 
 out, the hoarse voice of the pilot by Johnnie's side 
 to call directions. Presently Sheppey Island came 
 into view, and the sky above it was all streaked 
 with the promise of daylight. 
 
 Regardless of Captain Clark and two other men, 
 who were busied coiling ropes and making the poop 
 ship-shape for the Channel, Johnnie fell upon his 
 knees, brought the cross-belt of the King's sword 
 to his lips, and thanked God that he was away with 
 his love.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 " WHY, WHO BUT YOU, JOHNNIE ! " 
 
 THREE weeks and two days had passed, and the 
 St. lago was off Lisbon, and at anchor. 
 
 The sun beat down upon the decks, the pitch 
 bubbled in the seams, but now and then a cool 
 breeze came off the land. The city with its long 
 white terraces of houses shimmered in a haze of 
 heat, but on the west side of the valley in which 
 the city lay, the florid gothic of the great church 
 of St. Jerome, built just five-and-fifty years before, 
 was perfectly clear-cut against the sapphire sky 
 burnt into a vast enamel of blue, it seemed; bright 
 grey upon blue, with here and there a twinkling 
 spot of gold crowning the towers. 
 
 Twenty-three days the ship had taken to cut 
 through the long oily Atlantic swell and come to 
 port. There had been no rough winds in the 
 Bay, no tempests such as make it terrible for 
 mariners at other times of the year. 
 
 When they had arrived on board, and the ship 
 had got out of the Thames, none of the four 
 fugitives had the slightest idea as to where they 
 were going Madame La Motte least of all. The 
 
 226
 
 "WHY, WHO BUT YOU, JOHNNIE!" 227 
 
 relief at their escape had been too great; strangely 
 enough, they had not even enquired. 
 
 The old Frenchwoman, as soon as the ship was 
 under way, and Captain Clark could attend to 
 her, had gone below with him for half an hour; 
 while Johnnie, Hull, and Elizabeth remained upon 
 the poop. 
 
 When La Motte returned, the captain was smil- 
 ing. There was a genial twinkle in his eye. He 
 came up to the others in a very friendly fashion. 
 
 " S'death," he said, " I am in luck's way. Here 
 you are, Master Commendone, that are my owner's 
 friend and bear a letter from him; and here is 
 Mistress La Motte, whom I have known long 
 agone. By carrying ye to Cadiz I shall be earning 
 the Alderman's gratitude, and also good red coins 
 of the Mint, which Madame hath now paid me." 
 
 "Cadiz?" Johnnie said. "Cadiz in Spain?" 
 
 " .That fair city and none other," the captain 
 answered. " Heaven favouring us, we shall bowl 
 along to the city of wine, of fruit, and of fish. 
 You shall sip the sherries of Jerez and San Lucar, 
 and eke taste the soup of lobsters langosta, they 
 call it and bouillabaisse in the southern parts of 
 France upon the island of San Leon, where the 
 folk do go upon a Sunday for that refection. But 
 now come you down below and see to your quar- 
 ters. I have given up my cabin to the ladies, and 
 you, sir," he turned to Johnnie, " must turn in with 
 me, to which end I have commandeered the cabin 
 of Master Mew, that is my chief officer, and a
 
 228 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 merry fellow from the Isle of Wight, who will 
 sing you a right good catch of an evening, I'll 
 warrant. And as for this your servant, the bo'son 
 will look to him, and he will not be among the 
 men." 
 
 They had gone below, and everything was ar- 
 ranged accordingly. The quarters were more com- 
 fortable than Commendone had expected, and as 
 far as this part of the expedition was concerned 
 all was well. 
 
 Nevertheless, as Johnnie came up again upon the 
 poop with the captain, he was in great perturba- 
 tion. They were sailing to Spain! To the very 
 country which was ruled by the man he had so 
 evilly entreated. Might it not well be that, escap- 
 ing Scylla, they were sailing into the whirlpool of 
 Charybdis? 
 
 The captain seemed to divine something of the 
 young man's thoughts. He sat down upon a coil 
 of rope and looked upward with a shrewd and 
 weather-beaten eye. 
 
 " Look you here, master," he said. " Why you 
 came aboard my ship I know not. You caught 
 me as I was weighing anchor. Thou art a gentle- 
 man of condition, and yet you come aboard with 
 no mails, and nothing but that in which you stand 
 up. And you come aboard in company with that 
 old Moll of Flanders, La Motte no fit company 
 for a gentleman upon a voyage. And further- 
 more, you have with you a young and well-looking 
 lady, who also hath no baggage with her. I tell
 
 "WHY, WHO BUT YOU, JOHNNIE ! " 229 
 
 you truly that I would not have shipped you all 
 had it not been for the letter of His Worship the 
 Alderman whose hand of write I know very well 
 upon bills of lading and such. I like the look of 
 you, and as Madame there has paid me well, 'tis 
 no business of mine what you are doing or have 
 done. But look you here, if that pretty young 
 mistress is being forced to come with you against 
 her will and what else can I think when I see her 
 in the company of old Moll? then I will be a 
 party to nothing of the sort. I am not a married 
 man, not regular church-sworn, that is, though 
 I have a woman friend or two in this port or that. 
 And moreover, I have been oft-times to visit the 
 house with the red door. So you'll see I am no 
 Puritan. But at the same time I will be no help to 
 the ravishing of maids of gentle blood, and that 
 I ask you well to believe, master." 
 
 Johnnie heard him patiently to the end. 
 
 " Let me tell you this, captain," he said, " that 
 in what I am doing there is no harm of any sort. 
 Mistress Taylor, which is the name of the younger 
 lady, is the ward of Mr. Robert Cressemer. The 
 Alderman is my very good friend. My father, 
 Sir Henry Commendone, of Commendone in Kent, 
 is his constant friend and correspondent. The 
 young lady was taken away yesterday from her 
 guardian's care, taken in secret by some one high 
 about the Court from which I also come, being a 
 Gentleman in the following of King Philip. Late 
 last night, I received a letter from the Alderman,
 
 230 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 telling me of this, upon which I and my servant 
 immediately set out for where we thought to find 
 the stolen lady, in that we might rescue her. She 
 had been taken, shame that it should be said, to the 
 house of Madame La Motte in Duck Lane. From 
 there we took her, but in the taking I slew a most 
 unknightly knight of the Court, and offered a grave 
 indignity to one placed even more highly than he 
 was. Of necessity, therefore, we fled from that ill- 
 famed house. Madame La Motte brought us to 
 your ship, knowing you. Her we had to take with 
 us, for if not, vengeance would doubtless have 
 fallen upon her for what I did. And that, Cap- 
 tain Clark, is my whole story. As regards the 
 future, Madame La Motte, you say, hath paid you 
 well. I have no money with me, but I am the son 
 of a rich man, and moreover, I can draw upon Mr. 
 Cressemer for anything I require. Gin you take 
 us safely to Cadiz, I will give you such a letter to 
 the Alderman as will ensure your promotion in his 
 service, and will also be productive of a sum of 
 money for you. I well know that Master Cres- 
 semer would give a bag of ducats more than 
 you could lift, to secure the safety of Mistress 
 Taylor." 
 
 The captain nodded. " Hast explained thyself 
 very well, sir," he replied. " As for the money, 
 I am already paid, though if there is more to come, 
 the better I shall be pleased. But now that I know 
 your state and condition, and have heard your 
 story, rest assured that I will do all I can to help
 
 "WHY, WHO BUT YOU, JOHNNIE ! " 231 
 
 you. We touch at Lisbon first. There you can 
 purchase proper clothing for yourself and those 
 who are with you, and there also you can indite a 
 letter to the Alderman, which will go to him by an 
 English ship very speedily. You have told your 
 tale, and I ask to know no more. I would not know 
 any more, i' faith, even if thou wert to press the 
 knowledge on me. Now do not answer me in 
 what I am about to say, which, in brief, is this: 
 We of the riverside have heard talk and rumours. 
 We know very well who hath now and then been a 
 patron of La Motte. It may be that you have 
 come across and offered indignity to the person 
 of whom I speak I am no fool, Mr. Commen- 
 done, and gentlemen of your degree do not gen- 
 erally come aboard a vessel in the tideway at early 
 dawn in company of a mistress of a house with a 
 red door! If what I say is true and I do not 
 wish you to deny or to affirm upon the same 
 then you are as well in Cadiz as anywhere 
 else. It is, indeed, a far cry from the Tower of 
 London, and no one will know who you are in 
 Spain." 
 
 Instinctively Johnnie held out his hand, and the 
 big seaman clasped it in his brown and tarry fist. 
 
 ' Yes," he said slowly, in answer, weighing his 
 words as he did so, " doubtless we shall be safe 
 in Spain for a time, until advices can reach us from 
 England with money and reports of what has hap- 
 pened." 
 
 " I said so," Captain Clark answered, " and
 
 232 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 now you see it also. Mark you, any vengeance 
 that might fall upon you could only be secret, be- 
 cause if it is as I think, and, indeed, well believe 
 the person who has suffered indignity at your hands 
 could not confess to it, for reason of his state, and 
 where it was he suffered it. In Spain it would be 
 different, but who's to know that you are in Spain 
 for a long time, at any rate? " 
 
 " And by that time," Johnnie replied, " I shall 
 hope to have gone farther afield, and be out of 
 the fire of any one to hurt me. But there is this, 
 captain, which you must consider, sith you have 
 opened your mind to me as I to you. Enquiry 
 will be made; the wharfingers who brought us 
 aboard may be discovered, and will speak. It will 
 be known at any rate it may be known that 
 you and your ship were the instruments of our 
 escape. And how will you do then ? " 
 
 " I like you for saying that," said the captain, 
 " seeing that you are, as it were, in my power. 
 But alarm yourself not at all, Master Commen- 
 done." 
 
 He rose from the coil of hemp where he had 
 been sitting and spat out into the sea. 
 
 " By'r Lady," he cried, " and dost think that 
 an honest British seafaring man fears anything 
 that a rascally, yellow-faced, jelly-gutted lot of 
 Spanish toads, that have fastened them on to our 
 fair England, can do? Why! as thinking is now, 
 in the City of London, my owner, Master Cres- 
 semer, and three or four others with him, could
 
 " WHY, WHO BUT YOU, JOHNNIE ! " 233 
 
 put such pressure upon Whitehall that ne'er a 
 word would be said. It is them that hath the 
 money, and the train bands at their back, that 
 both pay the piper and call the tune in London 
 City." 
 
 " I'm glad you take it that way, captain," Com- 
 mendone said, " but I felt bound in duty to put 
 your risk before you. Yet if it is as you say, and 
 the power of the merchant princes of the City is 
 so great, why do those about the Queen burn and 
 throw in prison so many good men for their 
 religion? " 
 
 " Ah, there you have me," said the captain. 
 " Religion is a very different thing a plague to 
 religion, say I though I would not say it unless I 
 were walking my own deck and upon the high seas. 
 But, look you, religion is very different. They 
 can burn a man for his religion in England, but 
 if he is in otherwise right, according to the powers 
 that be, they cannot make religion a mere excuse 
 for burning him. Now I myself am a good Catho- 
 lic mariner " he put his tongue in his cheek as he 
 spoke " when I am ashore I take very good care 
 these days to be regular at Mass. And this 
 ship hath been baptised by a priest withal ! Make 
 your mind at rest; they cannot touch me in Eng- 
 land for taking of you away. There is too much 
 at my back! And they cannot touch me in Spain 
 because no one will know anything about it there. 
 And now 'tis time for dinner. So come you down. 
 There's a piece of pickled beef that hath been in
 
 234 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 the pot this long time, and good green herbs with 
 it too the want of which you will feel ere ever 
 you make the Tagus." 
 
 It is astonishing although the observation is 
 trite how soon people adapt themselves to en- 
 tirely new conditions of life. The environment of 
 yesterday seems like the experience of another life; 
 that of to-day, though we have but just experi- 
 enced it, becomes already a thing of use and wont. 
 
 It was thus with the fugitives. They were not 
 three days out from London River before they 
 had shaken down into their places and life had 
 become normal to them all. 
 
 It was not, of course, without its discomforts. 
 Hull, messing with the bo'son, was very well off 
 and speedily became popular with every one. The 
 brightness and cheeriness of the fellow's disposi- 
 tion made him hail and happy met with all of them, 
 while his great personal strength and general handi- 
 ness detracted nothing from his popularity. Ma- 
 dame La Motte, wicked old soldier of fortune as 
 she was, adapted herself to her surroundings with 
 true and cynical French philosophy. She, who was 
 used to live in the greatest personal luxury, put up 
 with the rough fare, the confined quarters, with 
 equanimity, though it was fortunate that their pas- 
 sage was smooth, and that all the time the sea 
 was tranquil as a pond. She was accustomed to 
 drink fine French and Italian wines and to drink
 
 "WHY, WHO BUT YOU, JOHNNIE!" 235 
 
 a great deal of them. Now she found, perforce, 
 consolation in Captain Clark's puncheons of Ant- 
 werp spirit, the white fiery schiedam. She was a 
 drunkard, this engaging lady, and imbibed great 
 quantities of liquor, much to the satisfaction of the 
 captain, who was paid for it in good coin of the 
 realm. 
 
 The woman never became confused or intoxi- 
 cated by what she drank. Towards the end of 
 the day she became a little sentimental, and was 
 wont to talk overmuch of her good birth, to expati- 
 ate upon the fallen glories of her family. Never- 
 theless, no single word escaped her which could 
 shock or enlighten the sensitive purity of the young 
 girl who was now in her charge. There must have 
 been some truth in her stories, because Commen- 
 done, who was a thoroughly well-bred man, could 
 see that her manners were those of his own class. 
 There was certainly a free-and-easiness, a rakish 
 bonhomie, and a caustic wit which was no part of 
 the attributes of the great ladies Johnnie had met 
 always excepting the wit. This side of the old 
 woman came from the depths into which she had 
 descended; but in other essentials she was a lady, 
 and the young man, with his limited experience of 
 life, marvelled at it, and more than once thanked 
 God that things were no worse. 
 
 It was during this strange voyage that he learnt, 
 or began to learn, that great lesson of tolerance, 
 which was to serve him so well in his after life. He 
 realised that there was good even in this unclean
 
 236 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 old procuress; that she had virtues which some 
 decent' women he had known had lacked. She 
 tended Elizabeth with a maternal care; the girl 
 clung to her, became fond of her at once, and 
 often said to Johnnie how kind the woman was to 
 her and what an affection she inspired. 
 
 Reflecting on these things in the lonely watches 
 of the night, Commendone saw his views of life 
 perceptibly changing and becoming softened. 
 This young man, so carefully trained, so highly 
 educated, so exquisitely refined in thought and be- 
 haviour, found himself feeling a real friendship 
 and something akin to tenderness for this kindly, 
 battered jetsam of life. 
 
 She spoke frankly to him about her dreadful 
 trade of the past, regarding it philosophically. 
 There was a demand; fortune or fate had put 
 her in the position of supplying that demand. // 
 faut vivre and there you were ! And yet it was 
 a most singular contradiction that this woman, 
 who for so long had exploited and sold woman- 
 hood, was now as kind and tender, as scrupulous 
 and loving to Elizabeth Taylor as if the girl was 
 her own daughter. 
 
 It was not without great significance, Johnnie 
 remembered, that the soul of the Canaanitish harlot 
 was the first that Christ redeemed. 
 
 With Elizabeth and surely there was never a 
 stranger courting Johnnie sank at once into the 
 position of her devoted lover. It seemed inevi- 
 table. There was no prelude to it; there were no
 
 "WHY, WHO BUT YOU, JOHNNIE!" 237 
 
 hesitations; it just happened, as if it were a thing 
 preordained. 
 
 From the very first the girl accepted him as her 
 natural protector; she looked up to him in all 
 things; he became her present and her horizon. 
 
 It was on one lovely night, when the moon was 
 rising, the winds were soft and low, and the stars 
 came out in the dark sky like golden rain, that he 
 first spoke to her of what was to happen. 
 
 It was all quite simple, though inexpressibly 
 sweet. 
 
 They were alone together in the forward part 
 of the ship, and suddenly he took her slim white 
 hand like a thing of carved and living ivory 
 and held it close to his heart. 
 
 " My dear," he said, in a voice tremulous with 
 feeling, " my dear Lizzie, you are my love and my 
 lady. When first I saw you outside St. Botolph 
 his Church, so slim and sorrowful in the grey 
 dawning, my heart was pierced with love for you, 
 and during the sad day that came I vowed that I 
 would devote my life to loving you, and that if 
 God pleased thou shouldst be my little wife. Wilt 
 marry me, darling? nay, thou must marry me, for 
 I need you so sore, to be mine for ever both here 
 in this mortal world and afterwards with God and 
 His Angels. Tell me, sweetheart, wilt marry me ? " 
 
 She looked up in his face, and the little hand 
 upon his heart trembled as she did so. 
 
 " Why, Johnnie," she answered at length, " why, 
 Johnnie, who could I marry but you? "
 
 238 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 He gathered the sweet and fragrant Simplicity 
 to him ; he kissed the soft scarlet mouth, his strong 
 arms were a home for her. 
 
 " Or ever we get to Seville," he said, " we 
 will be married, sweetheart, and never will we 
 part from that day." 
 
 She echoed him. " Never part ! " she said. 
 " Oh, Johnnie, my true love; my dear and darling 
 Johnnie!" 
 
 At Lisbon, where they lay five days, Madame 
 La Motte and Elizabeth went ashore, and pur- 
 chased suitable clothes and portmanteaux, while 
 Johnnie also fitted himself out afresh. Madame 
 La Motte had brought a very large sum with her 
 in carefully hoarded gold, while she had also car- 
 ried away all her jewels, which, in themselves, were 
 worth a small fortune. She placed the whole of 
 her money at Commendone's disposal, and made 
 him take charge of it, with an airy generosity 
 which much touched the young man. He explained 
 to her that in the course of three months or so any 
 money that he needed would reach him from 
 England, and that she would be repaid, but she 
 hardly seemed to hear him and waved such sug- 
 gestion away. And it is a most curious thing that 
 not till a long time afterward did it ever occur 
 to the young man how and in what way the money 
 he was using had been earned. The realisation of 
 that was to come to him later; the time was not yet.
 
 "WHY, WHO BUT YOU, JOHNNIE ! " 239 
 
 At Lisbon the passengers on board the St. lago 
 were added to. A small yellow-faced Spaniard 
 of very pleasant manners Don Pedro Perez by 
 name bought a passage to Cadiz from Captain 
 Clark, and there was another fellow of the lower 
 classes, a tall, athletic young man, very much of 
 Johnnie's build, though with a heavy and rather 
 cruel face, who also joined the vessel. This per- 
 son, who paid the captain a small sum to be car- 
 ried to the great port, lived with the sailors, and 
 interfered nothing with the life of the others. 
 
 Don Perez proved himself an amusing com- 
 panion and was very courteous to the ladies. 
 
 From him Johnnie made many enquiries and 
 learnt a good deal of what he wanted to know. 
 It will be remembered that Commendone's mother 
 was a Spaniard, a girl of the Senebria family of 
 Seville. Johnnie knew little of his relations on his 
 mother's side, but old Sir Henry still kept up 
 some slight intercourse with Don Jose Senebria, 
 the brother of his late wife. Now and again 
 a cask of wine and some pottles of olives arrived 
 at Commendone, and occasionally the knight re- 
 turned the present, sending out bales of Flemish 
 cloth. It was Johnnie's purpose to immediately 
 proceed from Cadiz to Seville after their arrival 
 at the port. He learnt with satisfaction that Don 
 Jose still inhabited the old family palace by the 
 Giralda, and he felt that he would at least be 
 among friends and sure of a welcome. 
 
 While the St. lago lay at Lisbon, two days
 
 2 4 o HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 before she set sail from there, an English ship 
 arrived, and from that time until she weighed 
 anchor Johnnie and none of his companions went 
 ashore. It was extremely unlikely that they would 
 incur any danger, for the Queen Mary, which 
 was the name of the ship, must have sailed at very 
 much the same time as they did. It was as well, 
 however, to undergo no unnecessary risks. 
 
 On the day before the St. lago sailed for Cadiz 
 a great Spanish galley came up the Tagus, a long 
 and splendid ship, gliding swiftly up the river 
 with its two banks of oars. It was the first galley 
 Johnnie had ever seen, and he shuddered as he 
 thought of the chained slaves below, who pro- 
 pelled that sort of vessel, which was spoken of in 
 England as a floating hell. The galley lay at 
 Lisbon for several hours, and then at evening left 
 the wharf where she had been tied and once more 
 went down the river for the open sea. 
 
 Johnnie was on deck as she passed, just about 
 sunset, and watched with great interest, for the 
 galley crossed the stern of the St. lago only fifty 
 yards away from him. 
 
 He heard the regular machine-like chunking of 
 the oars; he heard also a sharper, more pistol-like 
 sound, which he knew was none other than the 
 cracking of the overseers' whips, as they flogged 
 the slaves to greater exertions. 
 
 He did not see that among a little group of 
 people upon the high castellated poop of the galley 
 there was one figure, a tall figure, muffled in a
 
 "WHY, WHO BUT YOU, JOHNNIE ! " 241 
 
 cloak, and with a broad-brimmed Spanish hat low 
 upon its face, who started and peered eagerly at 
 him as the ship went by. 
 
 Nor did he hear a low chuckle of amusement 
 which came from that cloaked figure. 
 
 Elizabeth was standing by his side. He turned 
 to her. 
 
 "Let us go below," he said; "they will be 
 bringing supper. Sweetheart, I feel sad to think 
 of those wretched men that pull that splendid ship 
 so swiftly through the seas."
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 " MISERICORDIA ET JUSTITIA " 
 (The ironic motto of the Spanish Inquisition) 
 
 THEY had passed Cape de St. Vincent, and, under 
 a huge copper-coloured moon which flooded the 
 sea with light and seemed like a chased buckler of 
 old Rome, were slipping along towards Faro, south- 
 wards and eastwards to Cadiz. 
 
 The night was fair, sweet, and golden. The 
 airs which filled the sails of the square-rigged 
 ship were soft and warm. The " lap, lap " of the 
 small waves upon the cutwater was soothing and 
 in harmony with the hour. 
 
 Elizabeth had been sleeping in the cabin long 
 since, but Commendone, old Madame La Motte, 
 and the little weazened Don Perez were sitting 
 on the forecastle desk together, among the six 
 brass carronades which were mounted there, ready 
 loaded, in case of an attack by the pirates of 
 Tangier. 
 
 " You were going to tell us, Senor," Johnnie 
 said, " something of the Holy Office, and why, 
 when you leave Seville, you leave Spain for ever." 
 
 Don Perez nodded. He rose to his feet and 
 peered round the wooden tower of the forecastle, 
 which nearly filled the bow-deck. 
 
 242
 
 " MISERICORDIA ET JUSTITIA " 243 
 
 " There is nobody there," he said, with a little 
 sigh of relief. " That fellow we took aboard at 
 Lisbon is down in the waist with the mari- 
 ners." 
 
 "But why do you fear him?" Johnnie an- 
 swered in surprise. 
 
 The little yellow man plucked at his pointed 
 black beard, hesitated for a moment, and then 
 spoke. 
 
 "Have you noticed his hands, Senor?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " Since you say so," Johnnie replied, with won- 
 der in his voice, " I have noticed them. He is a 
 proper young man of his inches, strong and an ath- 
 lete, though I like not his face. But his hands are 
 out of all proportion. They are too large, and the 
 thumbs too broad indeed, I have never seen 
 thumbs like them upon a hand before." 
 
 Don Pedro Perez nodded significantly. " Cier- 
 tamenta," he answered dryly. " It is hereditary; 
 it comes of his class. He is a sworn torturer of 
 the Holy Office." 
 
 Johnnie shuddered. They had been speaking 
 in Spanish. Now he exclaimed in his own tongue. 
 " Good God! " he said, " how horrible! " 
 
 Perez grinned sadly and cynically as the moon- 
 light fell upon his yellow face. " You may well 
 start, Sefior," he said, " but you know little of the 
 land to which you are going yet." 
 
 There came a sudden, rapid exclamation in 
 French. Madame La Motte, speaking in that
 
 244 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 slow, frightened voice which had been hers 
 throughout the voyage, was interposing. 
 
 " I don't understand," she said, " but I want to 
 hear what the gentleman has to say. He speaks 
 French; let us therefore use that language." 
 
 Don Perez bowed. " I am quite agreeable," he 
 said; " but I doubt, Madame, that you will care to 
 hear all I was going to tell the Senor here." 
 
 " Phut ! " said the Frenchwoman. " I know 
 more evil things than you or Don Commendone 
 have ever dreamed of. Say what you will." 
 
 Don Perez drew a little nearer to the others, 
 squatting down, with his head against the bow- 
 men's tower. 
 
 1 You have asked me about the Inquisition, 
 Monsieur and Madame," he said in a low voice, 
 " and as ye are going to Seville, I will tell you, for 
 you have been courteous and kind to me since I 
 left Lisbon, and you may as well be warned. I am 
 peculiarly fitted to tell you, because my brother 
 God and Our Lady rest his blood-stained soul ! 
 was a notary of the Holy Office at Seville. We 
 are, originally, Lisbon people, and my brother 
 was paying a visit to his family, being on leave 
 from his duties. He caught fever and died, and I 
 am bearing back his papers with me to Seville, from 
 which city I shall depart as soon as may be. It 
 is only care for my own skin that makes me act 
 thus as executor to my brother, Garcia Perez. Did 
 I not, they would seek me out wherever I might 
 be."
 
 " MISERICORDIA ET JUSTITIA " 245 
 
 'You go in fear, then?" Johnnie asked curi- 
 ously. 
 
 " All Spaniards go in fear," Perez answered, 
 " under this reign. It is the horror of the In- 
 quisition that while any one may be haled before 
 it on a complaint which is anonymous, hardly any 
 one ever escapes certain penalties. Senor," his 
 voice trembled, and a deep note of feeling came 
 into it, " if the fate of that wretch is heavy who, 
 being innocent of heresy, will not confess his 
 guilt, and is therefore tortured until he confesses 
 imaginary guilt, and is then burned to death, hardly 
 less is the misery of the victim who recants or 
 repenteth and is freed from the penalty of death." 
 
 " Tiens! " said La Motte, shuddering. " I have 
 heard somewhat of this in Paris; but continue, 
 Monsieur, continue." 
 
 " No one knows," the little man answered, 
 " how the Holy Office is striking at the root of all 
 national life in my country. And no one has a 
 better knowledge of it all at second hand for, 
 thank Our Lady, I have never yet been suspected 
 or arraigned than I myself, for my brother being 
 for long notary and secretary to the Grand In- 
 quisitor of Seville, I have heard much. Now I 
 must tell you, that the place of torture is generally 
 an underground and very dark room, to which one 
 enters through several doors. There is a tribunal 
 erected in it, where the Inquisitor, Inspector, and 
 Secretary sit. When the candles are lighted, and 
 the person to be tortured is brought in, the exe-
 
 246 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 cutioner, who is waiting for him, makes an aston- 
 ishing and dreadful appearance. He is covered all 
 over with black linen garments down to his feet 
 and tied close to his body. His head and face 
 are all hidden with a long black cowl, only two 
 little holes being left in it for him to see through. 
 All this is intended to strike the miserable wretch 
 with greater terror in mind and body, when he sees 
 himself going to be tortured by the hands of one 
 who thus looks like the very Devil." 
 
 Johnnie moved uneasily in his seat and struck 
 the breech of a carronade with his open hand. 
 " Phew ! Devil's tricks indeed," he said. 
 
 "Whilst," Don Perez went on, "whilst the 
 officers are getting things ready for the torture, 
 the Bishop and Inquisitor by themselves, and other 
 men zealous for the faith, endeavour to persuade 
 the person to be tortured freely to confess the 
 truth, and if he will not, they order the officers 
 to strip him, who do it in an instant. 
 
 ' Whilst the person to be tortured is stripping, 
 he is persuaded to confess the truth. If he refuses 
 it, he is taken aside by certain men and urged to 
 confess, and told by them that if he confesses he 
 will not be put to death, but only be made to swear 
 that he will not return to the heresy he hath ab- 
 jured. If he is persuaded neither by threatenings 
 nor promises to confess his crime, he is tortured 
 either more lightly or grievously according as his 
 crime requires, and frequently interrogated during 
 the torture upon those articles for which he is put
 
 " MISERICORDIA ET JUSTITIA " 247 
 
 to it, beginning with the lesser ones, because they 
 think he would sooner confess the lesser matters 
 than the greater." 
 
 " Criminals are racked in England," Johnnie 
 said, " and are flogged most grievously, as well 
 they deserve, I do not doubt." 
 
 Perez chuckled. " Aye," he said, " that I well 
 know; but you have nothing in England like the 
 Holy Office. But let me tell you more as to the 
 law of it, for, as I have said, my brother was one of 
 them." 
 
 He went on in a low regular voice, almost as if 
 he were repeating something learned by rote. . . . 
 'What think you of this? The Inquisitors 
 themselves must interrogate the criminals during 
 their torture, nor can they commit this business 
 to others unless they are engaged in other important 
 affairs, in which case they may depute certain skil- 
 ful men for the purpose. 
 
 " Although in other nations criminals are pub- 
 licly tortured, yet in Spain it is forbidden by the 
 Royal Law for any to be present whilst they are 
 torturing, besides the judges, secretaries, and tor- 
 turers. The Inquisitors must also choose proper 
 torturers, born of ancient Christians, who must be 
 bound by oath by no means to discover their 
 secrets, nor to report anything that is said. 
 
 ' The judges also shall protest that if the crimi- 
 nal should happen to die under his torture, or by 
 reason of it, or should suffer the loss of any of 
 his limbs, it is not to be imputed to them, but to
 
 248 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 the criminal himself, who will not plainly confess 
 the truth before he is tortured. 
 
 " A heretic may not only be interrogated con- 
 cerning himself, but in general also concerning his 
 companions and accomplices in his crime, his teach- 
 ers and his disciples, for he ought to discover 
 them, though he be not interrogated; but when he 
 is interrogated concerning them, he is much more 
 obliged to discover them than his accomplices in 
 any other the most grievous crimes. 
 
 " A person also suspected of heresy and fully 
 convicted may be tortured upon another account, 
 that is, to discover his companions and accom- 
 plices in the crime. This must be done when he 
 hesitates, or it is half fully proved, at least, that 
 he was actually present with them, or he hath such 
 companions and accomplices in his crime; for in 
 this case he is not tortured as a criminal, but as 
 a witness. 
 
 " But he who makes full confession of himself 
 is not tortured upon a different account; whereas 
 if he be a negative he may be tortured upon another 
 account, to discover his accomplices and other 
 heretics though he be full convicted himself, and 
 it be half fully proved that he hath such accom- 
 plices. 
 
 " The reason of the difference in these cases is 
 this, because he who confesses against himself 
 would certainly much rather confess against other 
 heretics if he knew them. But it is otherwise when 
 the criminal is a negative.
 
 " MISERICORDIA ET JUSTITIA " 249 
 
 " While these things are doing, the notary writes 
 everything down in the process, as what tortures 
 were inflicted, concerning what matters the prisoner 
 was interrogated, and what he answered. 
 
 " If by these tortures they cannot draw from 
 him a confession, they show him other kind of 
 tortures, and tell him he must undergo all of them, 
 unless he confesses the truth. 
 
 " If neither by these means they can extort the 
 truth, they may, to terrify him and engage him to 
 confess, assign the second or third day to continue, 
 not to repeat, the torture, till he hath under- 
 gone all those kinds of them to which he is con- 
 demned." 
 
 " It is bitter cruel," Madame La Motte said, 
 " bitter cruel. It is not honest torture such as we 
 have in Paris." 
 
 Commendone shuddered. " Honest torture ! " 
 he said. " There is no torture which is honest, 
 nor could be liked by Christ our Lord. I saw a 
 saint burned to his death a few weeks agone. It 
 taught me a lesson." 
 
 The little Spaniard tittered. " It must be ! It 
 must be ! " he said; " and who are you and I, Senor, 
 to flout the decrees of Holy Church? The burning 
 doth not last for long. I have seen a many burned 
 upon the Quemadero, and twenty minutes is the 
 limit of their suffering. It is not so in the dungeons 
 of the Holy Office." 
 
 " What then do they do? " Madame La Motte 
 asked eagerly, though she trembled as she asked
 
 2 5 o HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 it morbid excitement alone being able to thrill 
 her vicious, degenerate blood. 
 
 " The degrees of torture are five, which are 
 inflicted in turn," Perez answered briskly. " First, 
 the being threatened to be tortured; secondly, being 
 carried to the place of torture; thirdly, by stripping 
 and binding; fourthly, the being hoisted on the 
 rack; fifthly, squassation. 
 
 ' The stripping is performed without any re- 
 gard to humanity or honour, not only to men, but 
 to women and virgins, though the most virtuous 
 and chaste, of whom they have sometimes many 
 in their prison at Seville. For they cause them to 
 be stripped even to their very shifts, which they 
 afterwards take off, forgive the expression, and 
 then put on them straight linen drawers, and then 
 make their arms naked quite up to their shoulders. 
 -You ask me what is squassation?" 
 
 Nobody had asked him, but he went on : 
 
 "It is thus performed: The prisoner hath his 
 hands bound behind his back and weights tied to 
 his feet, and then he is drawn up on high till his 
 head reaches the very pulley. He is kept hanging 
 in this manner for some time, that by the greatness 
 of the weight hanging at his feet, all his joints 
 and limbs may be dreadfully stretched, and on a 
 sudden he is let down with a jerk by slacking the 
 rope, but kept from coming quite to the ground, 
 by the which terrible shake his arms and legs are 
 all disjointed, whereby he is put to the most ex- 
 quisite pain; the shock which he receives by the
 
 " MISERICORDIA ET JUSTITIA " 25 1 
 
 sudden stop of the fall, and the weight at his feet, 
 stretching his whole body more intently and 
 cruelly." 
 
 Johnnie jumped up from the deck and stretched 
 his arms. " What fiends be these ! " he cried. 
 " Is there no justice nor true legal process in 
 Spain?" 
 
 "Holy Church! Holy Church, Senor!" the 
 Don replied. " But sit you down again. Sith you 
 are going to Seville, as I understand you to say, let 
 me tell you what happened to a noble lady of that 
 city, Joan Bohorquia, the wife of Francis Varquius, 
 a very eminent man and lord of Highuera, and 
 daughter of Peter Garcia Xeresius, a most wealthy 
 citizen. All this I tell you of my personal knowl- 
 edge, in that my brother was acquainted with it all 
 and part of the machinery of the Holy Office. And 
 this is a most sad and pitiful story, which, Senor 
 Englishman, you would think a story of the doings 
 of devils from hell ! But no I 'Twas all done by 
 the priests of Jesus our Lord; and so now to my 
 story. 
 
 " Eight days after her delivery they took the 
 child from her, and on the fifteenth shut her close 
 up, and made her undergo the fate of the other 
 prisoners, and began to manage her with their usual 
 arts and rigour. In so dreadful a calamity she 
 had only this comfort, that a certain pious young 
 woman, who was afterwards burned for her religion 
 by the Inquisitors, was allowed her for her com- 
 panion.
 
 252 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 " This young creature was, on a certain day, 
 carried out to her torture, and being returned 
 from it into her jail, she was so shaken, and had all 
 her limbs so miserably disjointed, that when she 
 laid upon her bed of rushes it rather increased her 
 misery than gave her rest, so that she could not 
 turn herself without most excessive pain. 
 
 " In this condition, as Bohorquia had it not in 
 her power to show her any or but very little out- 
 ward kindness, she endeavoured to comfort her 
 mind with great tenderness. 
 
 ' The girl had scarce begun to recover from her 
 torture, when Bohorquia was carried out to the 
 same exercise, and was tortured with such diabolical 
 cruelty upon the rack, that the rope pierced and 
 cut into the very bones in several places, and in 
 this manner she was brought back to prison, just 
 ready to expire, the blood immediately running 
 out of her mouth in great plenty. Undoubtedly 
 they had burst her bowels, insomuch that the eighth 
 day after her torture she died. 
 
 " And when, after all, they could not procure 
 sufficient evidence to condemn her, though sought 
 after and procured by all their inquisitorial arts, 
 yet as the accused person was born in that place, 
 where they were obliged to give some account of 
 the affair to the people, and, indeed, could not by 
 any means dissemble it, in the first act of triumph 
 appointed her death, they commanded her sentence 
 to be pronounced in these words : ' Because this 
 lady died in prison (without doubt suppressing
 
 " MISERICORDIA ET JUSTITIA " 253 
 
 the causes of it), and was found to be innocent 
 upon inspecting and diligently examining her cause, 
 therefore the holy tribunal pronounces her free 
 from all charges brought against her by the fiscal, 
 and absolving her from any further process, doth 
 restore her both as to her innocence and reputation, 
 and commands all her effects, which had been con- 
 fiscated, to be restored to those to whom they of 
 right belonged, etc.' And thus, after they had 
 murdered her by torture with savage cruelty, they 
 pronounced her innocent ! " 
 
 "I will not go to Spain! They'll have me; 
 they're bound to have me ! I dare not go ! " La 
 Motte spluttered. 
 
 " Hush, Madame 1 " said Perez. " Even here 
 on the high seas you do not know who hears you > 
 there is that man ..." 
 
 Again Johnnie leapt to his feet; he paced up and 
 down the little portion of the deck between the 
 forecastle and bowsprit. 
 
 Elizabeth was sleeping quietly down below. He 
 had seen her father die. His mind whirled. 
 " Jesus! " he said in a low voice, " and is this in- 
 deed Thy world, when men who love Thee must 
 die for a shadow of belief in their worship ! Surely 
 some savage pagan god would not exact this from 
 his votaries." 
 
 He swung round to Perez, still sitting upon the 
 deck. 
 
 " And may not we love God and His Mother in 
 Spain?" he asked, "without definitions and little
 
 254 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 tiny rules? Then, if this is so, God indeed hides 
 His face from Christian countries." 
 
 " Chiton! " the Spaniard said. " Hush ! if you 
 said that, Senor, or anything like it, where you 
 are going, you would not be twelve hours out of the 
 prisons of the Holy Office. If that hang-faced 
 dog who is down below with the mariners had 
 heard you, you might well look to your landing in 
 the dominions of his Most Catholic Majesty." 
 
 He laughed, a bitter and cynical laugh. 
 ; ' Well," he said, " for my part, I shall soon be 
 done with it. Hitherto I have been protected by 
 my brother, who, as I have told you, is but lately 
 dead; but, knowing what I know, I dare no longer 
 remain in Spain. 'Tis a wonder to me, indeed, that 
 men can go about their business under the sun in 
 the fashion that they do. But I am not strong 
 enough to endure the strain, and also I know more 
 than the ordinary I know too much. So when I 
 have delivered the papers that I carry of my 
 brother's to the authorities in Seville, I sail away. 
 I have enough money to live in ease for the rest of 
 my life, and in some little vineyard of the Ape- 
 ninnes I shall watch my grapes ripen, live a simple 
 life, and meditate upon the ferocity of men. But 
 you have not heard all yet, Senor." 
 
 Johnnie leant against the forecastle, tall and 
 silent in the moonlight. 
 
 "Then tell me more, Senor," he said; "it is 
 well to know all. But " he looked at Madame 
 La Motte.
 
 " MISERICORDIA ET JUSTITIA " 255 
 
 " Continuez," the old creature answered in a 
 cracked voice; " I also would hear it all, if, indeed, 
 there is worse than this." 
 
 " Worse ! " Perez answered. " Let me tell you 
 of the fate of a man I knew well, and liked withal. 
 He was a Jew, Seiior, but nevertheless I liked him 
 well. We had dealings together, and I found him 
 more honest in his walking than many a Christian 
 man. Orobio was his name Isaac Orobio, doc- 
 tor of physic, who was accused to the Inquisition as 
 a Jew by a certain Moor, his servant, who had, 
 by his order, before this been whipped for thieving. 
 Orobio conformed to religion, but the Moor ac- 
 cused him, and four years after this he was again 
 accused by an enemy of his, for another fact which 
 would have proved him a Jew. But Orobio ob- 
 stinately denied that he was one." 
 
 " I like not Jews," Commendone said, with a 
 little shudder, voicing the popular hatred of the 
 day. 
 
 " Art young, Senor," the Spaniard replied, " and 
 doubtless thou hast not known nor been friends 
 with members of that oppressed race. I have 
 known many, and have had sweet friends among 
 them ; and among the Ebrews are to be found salt 
 of the earth. But I will give you the story of 
 Orobio's torture as I had it from his own mouth. 
 
 " After three whole years which he had been 
 in jail, and several examinations, and the discovery 
 of the crimes to him of which he was accused, in 
 order to his confession and his constant denial of
 
 256 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 them, he was, at length, carried out of his jail 
 and through several turnings and brought to the 
 place of torture. This was towards evening. 
 
 " It was a large, underground room, arched, 
 and the walls covered with black hangings. The 
 candlesticks were fastened to the wall, and the 
 whole room enlightened with candles placed in 
 them. At one end of it there was an enclosed place 
 like a closet, where the Inquisitor and notary sat 
 at a table that notary, Senor, was my brother. 
 The place seemed to Orobio as the very mansion 
 of death, everything appearing so terrible and 
 awful. Here the Inquisitor again admonished him 
 to confess the truth before his torment began. 
 
 " When he answered he had told the truth, the 
 Inquisitor gravely protested that since he was so 
 obstinate as to suffer the torture, the Holy Office 
 would be innocent if he should shed his blood, or 
 even expire in his torments. When he had said 
 this, they put a linen garment over Orobio's body, 
 and drew it so very close on each side as almost 
 to squeeze him to death. When he was almost 
 dying, they slackened, at once, the sides of the 
 garment, and after he began to breathe again, the 
 sudden alteration put him to most grievous anguish 
 and pain. When he had overcome this torture, 
 the same admonition was repeated, that he would 
 confess the truth in order to prevent further 
 torment. 
 
 " And as he persisted in his denial, they tied 
 his thumbs so very tightly with small cords as
 
 " MISERICORDIA ET JUSTITIA " 257 
 
 made the extremities of them greatly swell, and 
 caused the blood to spurt out from under his nails. 
 After this, he was placed with his back against the 
 wall and fixed upon a little bench. Into the wall 
 were fastened little iron pulleys, through which 
 there were ropes drawn and tied round his body in 
 several places, and especially his arms and legs. 
 The executioner drawing these ropes with great 
 violence, fastened his body with them to the wall, 
 so that his hands and feet, and especially his 
 fingers and toes, being bound so straitly with them, 
 put him to the most exquisite pain, and seemed 
 to him just as though he had been dissolving in 
 flames. In the midst of these torments, the tor- 
 turer of a sudden drew the bench from under him, 
 so that the miserable wretch hung by the cords 
 without anything to support him, and by the weight 
 of his body drew the knots yet much closer. 
 
 " After this a new kind of torture succeeded. 
 There was an instrument like a small ladder, made 
 of two upright pieces of wood and five cross ones, 
 sharpened before. This the torturer placed over 
 against him, and by a certain proper motion struck 
 it with great violence against both his shins, so that 
 he received upon each of them, at once, five violent 
 strokes, which put him to such intolerable anguish 
 that he fainted away. After he came to himself 
 they inflicted on him the last torture. 
 
 " The torturer tied ropes round Orobio's wrists, 
 and then put those ropes about his own back, 
 which was covered with leather to prevent his hurt-
 
 258 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 ing himself. Then, falling backwards, and put- 
 ting his feet up against the wall, he drew them with 
 all his might till they cut through Orobio's flesh, 
 even to the very bones; and this torture was re- 
 peated thrice, the ropes being tied about his arms, 
 about the distance of two fingers' breadth from his 
 former wound, and drawn with the same violence. 
 
 " But it happened to poor Orobio that as the 
 ropes were drawing the second time they slid into 
 the first wound, which caused so great an effusion 
 of blood that he seemed to be dying. Upon this, 
 the physician and surgeon, who are always ready, 
 were sent for out of a neighbouring apartment, 
 to ask their advice, whether the torture could be 
 continued without danger of death, lest the ecclesi- 
 astical judges should be guilty of an irregularity 
 if the criminal should die in his torments. 
 
 " Now they, Senor, who were very far from 
 being enemies to Orobio, answered that he had 
 strength enough to endure the rest of the torture. 
 And by doing this they preserved him from having 
 the torture he had already endured repeated on 
 him, because his sentence was that he should suffer 
 them all at one time, one after another, so that if 
 at any time they are forced to leave off, through 
 fear of death, the tortures, even those already suf- 
 fered, must be successively inflicted to satisfy the 
 sentence. Upon this the torture was repeated the 
 third time, and then was ended. After this Orobio 
 was bound up in his own clothes and carried back 
 to his prison, and was scarce healed of his wounds
 
 " MISERICORDIA ET JUSTITIA " 259 
 
 in seventy days, and inasmuch as he made no con- 
 fession under his torture, he was condemned, not 
 as one convicted, but suspected of Judaism, to 
 wear for two whole years the infamous habit called 
 the sanbenito, and it was further decreed that after 
 that term he should suffer perpetual banishment 
 from the kingdom of Seville." 
 
 The Frenchwoman, who had been listening with 
 strained attention, broke in suddenly. " Nom de 
 Dieu!" she cried; " to be banished from there 
 would surely be like entering into paradise I" 
 
 Perez went on. He took a morbid pleasure in 
 the telling of these hideous truths. It was obvious 
 that he had long suffered mentally under the ob- 
 session that some day some such horrors might 
 happen to himself. Connected with it all by family 
 ties, absolutely unable to say a word for many 
 years, now, under the sweet skies of heaven, in 
 the calm and splendid night, he was disemburden- 
 ing himself of that which had been pent within 
 him for so long. 
 
 He seemed impatient of interruption, anxious 
 to say more. . . . 
 
 " Ah," he whispered, " but the Tormento di 
 Toca, that is the worst, that would frighten me 
 more than all that, the Chafing-dish, and the 
 Water-Cure. The Tormento di Toca is that the 
 torturer that fellow down there with the sailors 
 has doubtless performed it full many a time the 
 torturer throws over the victim's mouth and nos- 
 trils a thin cloth, so that he is scarce able to breathe
 
 260 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 through it, and in the meanwhile a small stream 
 of water, like a thread, not drop by drop, falls 
 from on high upon the mouth of the person lying 
 in this miserable condition, and so easily sinks down 
 the thin cloth to the bottom of his throat, so that 
 there is no possibility of breathing, the mouth 
 being stopped with water, and his nostrils with 
 the cloth, so that the poor wretch is in the same 
 agony as persons ready to die, and breathing out 
 their last. When the cloth is drawn out of his 
 throat, as it often is, that he may answer to the 
 questions, it is all wet with water and blood, and 
 is like pulling his bowels through his mouth." 
 
 "What is the Chafing-dish?" Madame La 
 Motte asked thinly. 
 
 " They order a large iron chafing-dish full of 
 lighted charcoal to be brought in and held close 
 to the soles of the tortured person's feet, greased 
 over with lard, so that the heat of the fire may 
 more quickly pierce through them. And as for the 
 Water-Cure, it was done to William Lithgow, an 
 Englishman, Senor, upon whom my brother saw it 
 performed. He was taken up as a spy in Malaga, 
 and was exposed to most cruel torments as an 
 heretic. He was condemned in the beginning of 
 Lent to suffer the night following eleven most cruel 
 torments, and after Easter to be carried privately 
 to Granada, there to be burned at midnight, and 
 his ashes to be scattered into the air. When night 
 came on his fetters were taken off. Then he was 
 Stripped naked, put upon his knees, and his head
 
 " MISERICORDIA ET JUSTITIA " 261 
 
 lifted up by force, after which, opening his mouth 
 with iron instruments, they filled his belly with 
 water till it came out of his jaws. Then they tied 
 a rope hard about his neck, and in this condition 
 rolled him seven times the whole length of the 
 room, till he almost quite strangled. After this 
 they tied a small cord about both his great toes, 
 and hung him up thereby with his head down, let- 
 ting him remain in this condition till the water dis- 
 charged out of his mouth, so that he was laid on 
 the ground as just dead, and had his irons put on 
 him again." 
 
 "Is this true, Senor?" Commendone asked in 
 a low voice; but even while he asked it he knew 
 how true it was had he not seen Dr. Taylor 
 beaten to the stake? 
 
 ' True, Senor? " the little man said. " You do 
 not doubt my word? I see you do not. It was 
 but a natural expression. You are fortunate to be 
 a citizen of England a citizen of no mean coun- 
 try but still, as I have heard, now that His Most 
 Catholic Majesty is wedded to your kingdom there 
 are many burnings." 
 
 " At any rate," Johnnie answered hotly, " we 
 have no Holy Office." 
 
 " Aye, but you will, Senor, you will! if the 
 Queen Maria liveth long enough, for they tell me 
 she is sickly, and not like to make a goodly age. 
 But still, to come from England is most deadly 
 unwise, and I cannot think why a caballero should 
 care to do so."
 
 262 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 Johnnie did not answer him for a moment. He 
 knew very well why he had cared, or dared, to do 
 so. He looked at Madame La Motte with a grim 
 little smile. 
 
 The woman took him on the instant. 
 
 " A chevalier, such as Monsieur here, hath his 
 own reasons for where he goes and what he does," 
 she said. " Take not upon you, Monsieur Perez, 
 to enquire too much ..." 
 
 Johnnie stopped her with a sudden exclamation. 
 
 " But touching the Holy Office, Senor," he said, 
 " what you have told me is all very well. I am a 
 good Catholic, I trust and hope; but surely these 
 circumstances are very occasional. You describe 
 things which .have doubtless happened, but not 
 things which happen every day. It is impossible 
 to believe that this is a system." 
 
 " Think you so? " said the little man. " Then 
 I will very soon disabuse you of any such idea. I 
 have papers in my mails, papers of my brother's, 
 which why, who comes here? " 
 
 His voice died away into silence, as round the 
 other side of the wooden tower of the forecastle 
 with which all big merchantmen were provided in 
 those days for defence against the enterprise of 
 pirates a black shadow, followed by a short, thick- 
 set form, came into their view. 
 
 Johnnie recognised Hull. 
 
 " I thought you had been asleep," he said, 
 " but thou art very welcome. We are talking of 
 grave matters dealing with the foreign parts to
 
 " MISERICORDIA ET JUSTITIA " 263 
 
 which we go, and the Sefior Don here hath been 
 telling us much. Still, thou wouldst not have under- 
 stood hadst thou been with us, for Don Perez 
 speaks naught but the Spanish and the French." 
 
 The little Spaniard, standing up against the bul- 
 warks, looked uneasily towards Commendone and 
 his servant, comprehending nothing of what was 
 said. 
 
 'This man is safe?" he asked in a trembling 
 voice. 
 
 " Safe ! " Johnnie answered. " This is my 
 faithful servant, who would die for me and the lady 
 who is sleeping below." 
 
 A freakish humour possessed him, a bitter, freak- 
 ish humour, in this fantastic, brilliant moonlight, 
 this ironic comedy upon the southern-growing 
 seas. 
 
 ' Take him by the hand, Senor," he said in 
 Spanish, " take him by his great, strong right hand, 
 for I'll wager you will not easily shake a hand so 
 honest in the dominions of the King of Spain to 
 which we sail." 
 
 The little man looked round him as if in fear. 
 There was an obvious suggestion in his eyes and 
 face that he was somehow trapped. 
 
 " Hold out thy hand, John Hull, and shake that 
 of this honest gentleman," Johnnie said. 
 
 The big brown hand of the Englishman went 
 out, the little yellow fingers of the Spaniard ad- 
 vanced tentatively towards it. 
 
 They shook hands.
 
 264 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 Johnnie watched it with amusement. These 
 dreadful stories of unthinkable cruelty had stirred 
 up something within him. He was not cruel, but 
 very tender-hearted, yet this little play upon the 
 doubting Spaniard was welcome and fitted in with 
 his mood. 
 
 Then he saw an astonishing thing, and one 
 which he could not explain. 
 
 The two men, the huge, squat John Hull of 
 Suffolk, the little weazened gentleman from Lisbon, 
 shook hands, looked at each other earnestly in the 
 face, and then, wonder of wonders, linked arms, 
 turned their backs upon Johnnie and the sleepy old 
 Frenchwoman by the carronade, and spoke ear- 
 nestly to each other for a moment. 
 
 Their forms were silhouetted against the silver 
 sea. There was an inexplicable motion of arms, 
 a word whispered and a word exchanged, and then 
 Don Perez wheeled round. 
 
 In the moonlight and the glimmer from the 
 lantern on the forecastle, Johnnie saw that his face, 
 which had been twitching with anxiety, was now 
 absolutely at rest. It was radiant even, excited, 
 pleased it wore the aspect of one alone among 
 enemies who had found a friend. 
 
 " 'Tis all right, Sefior," Perez said. " I will 
 go and fetch you the papers of which I spoke. 
 You may command me in any way now. You 
 are not yourself by any chance ..." 
 
 John Hull shook his head violently, and the 
 little Spaniard skipped away with a chuckle.
 
 " MISERICORDIA ET JUSTITIA " 265 
 
 ; ' What is this?" John Commendone asked. 
 " How have you made quick friends with the 
 Don? What is't art magic, or what?" 
 
 'Tis nothing, sir," Hull answered, with some 
 embarrassment, " 'tis but the Craft." 
 
 "The Craft?" Johnnie asked. "And what 
 may that be? " 
 
 " We're brethren, this man and I," Hull an- 
 swered; "we're of the Freemasons, and that is 
 why, master." 
 
 Johnnie nodded. He said no more. The whole 
 thing was inexplicable to him. He knew, of course, 
 of the Freemasons, that such a society existed, but 
 no evidence of it had ever come to his knowledge 
 before this night. The persecution of Freemasonry 
 which was to ensue in Queen Elizabeth's reign 
 was not yet, and the Brethren were a very hidden 
 people in 1555. 
 
 There was a patter of feet upon the ladder lead- 
 ing up to the forecastle-deck. Perez appeared 
 again with a bundle of papers in his hand. 
 
 " Now, then, Serior," he said, " you shall see 
 if this of which I have told you is a system or is 
 not. These are documents, forms, belonging to 
 my brother's business as Notary of the Holy Office. 
 Thus thou wilt see." 
 
 He handed a piece of parchment, printed parch- 
 ment, to Commendone. 
 
 Johnnie held it up under the light of the lantern, 
 and read it, with a chilling of the blood. 
 
 It was " The Proper Form of Torture for
 
 266 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 Women," and it was one of many forms left blank 
 for convenience to record the various steps. 
 
 As he glanced through it, his lips grew dry, his 
 eyes, straining in the half-sufficient light, seemed to 
 burn. 
 
 There was something peculiarly terrible in the 
 very omission of a special name, and the conse- 
 quent thought of the number of wretches whose 
 vain words and torments had been recorded upon 
 forms like this and were yet to be recorded 
 froze the young man into a still figure of horror 
 and of silence. 
 
 And this is what he read: 
 
 " She was told to tell the truth, or orders would 
 be given to strip her. She said, etc. She was com- 
 manded to be stripped naked. 
 
 " She was told to tell the truth, or orders would 
 be given to cut off her hair. She said, etc. 
 
 " Orders were given to cut of her hair; and 
 when it was taken of she was examined by the doc- 
 tor and surgeon, who said there was not any objec- 
 tion to her being put to the torture. 
 
 " She was told to tell the truth or she would be 
 commanded to mount the rack. She said, etc. 
 
 " She was commanded to mount, and she said, 
 etc. 
 
 "She was told to tell the truth, or her body 
 would be bound. She said, etc. She was ordered 
 to be bound. 
 
 " She was told to tell the truth, or, if not, they
 
 " MISERICORDIA ET JUSTITIA " 267 
 
 would order her right foot to be made fast for the 
 trampazo. She said, etc. They commanded it to 
 be made fast. 
 
 " She was told to tell the truth, or they would 
 command her left foot to be made fast for the 
 trampazo. She said, etc. They commanded it to 
 be made fast. She said, etc. It was ordered to 
 be done. 
 
 " She was told to tell the truth, or they would 
 order the binding of the right arm to be stretched. 
 She said, etc. It was commanded to be done. And 
 the same with the left arm. It was ordered to be 
 executed. 
 
 " She was told to tell the truth, or they would 
 order the fleshy part of her right arm to be made 
 fast for the garrote. She said, etc. It was or- 
 dered to be made fast. 
 
 " And by the said lord inquisitor, it was repeated 
 to her many times, that she should tell the truth, 
 and not let herself be brought into so great tor- 
 ment; and the physician and surgeon were called in, 
 who said, etc. And the criminal, etc. And orders 
 were given to make it fast. 
 
 " She was told to tell the truth, or they would 
 order the first turn of mancuerda. She said, etc. 
 It was commanded to be done. 
 
 " She was told to tell the truth, or they would 
 command the garrote to be applied again to the 
 right arm. She said, etc. It was ordered to be 
 done. 
 
 "She was told to tell the truth, or they would
 
 268 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 order the second turn of mancuerda. She said, etc. 
 It was commanded to be done. 
 
 " She was told to tell the truth, or they would 
 order the garrote to be applied again to the left 
 arm. She said, etc. It was ordered to be done. 
 
 " She was told to tell the truth, or they would 
 order the third turn of mancuerda. She said, etc. 
 It was commanded to be done. 
 
 (< She was told to tell the truth, or they would 
 order the trampazo to be laid on the right foot. 
 She said, etc. It was commanded to be done. 
 
 " For women you do not go beyond this." 
 
 Johnnie finished his reading. Then he tore up 
 into four pieces and flung it out upon the star- 
 board bow. 
 
 The yellow parchment fluttered over Madame 
 La Motte's head like great moonlit moths. 
 
 Then he turned and stared at Don Pedro, al- 
 most as if he would have sprung at him. 
 
 " 'Tis nothing of mine, Serior," the little man 
 said. " You asked me to tell you, and that I have 
 done. I am no enemy of yours, so look not at me 
 in that way. Here " he put his hand out and 
 touched John Hull " here I have a very worthy 
 brother, eke a Master of mine, who will answer 
 for me in all that I do." 
 
 The old Frenchwoman began to gather her vast 
 bulk together to descend into the cabin for sleep. 
 
 Johnnie helped her to her feet, and as he did 
 so a sweet tenor voice shivered out beneath the
 
 " MISERICORDIA ET JUSTITIA " 269 
 
 bellying sails, and there was the thrid of a lute ac- 
 companying it: 
 
 " I sail, I sail the Spanish seas, 
 
 Hey ho, in the sun and the cloud 
 To bring fair ladies 
 Wool to Cadiz, 
 
 To deck their bodies that are so proud, 
 In the ship of St. James a mariner /" . . . 
 
 Suddenly the voice of the singer ceased, shut off 
 into silence. 
 
 There was a half-frightened shout, a flapping of 
 the sails as the square-rigged ship fell out of the 
 night wind for a moment, and then a clamour of 
 loud voices. 
 
 " Over the side ! Over the side ! The man 
 from Lisbon's gone." 
 
 Johnnie had jumped to the port taffrail at the 
 noise, and he saw what had happened. He saw 
 the whole of it quite distinctly. A long, lithe 
 figure had been balancing itself upon the bulwarks, 
 giving its body to the gentle motion of the ship. 
 
 Suddenly it fell backwards, there was a resound- 
 ing splash in the quiet sea, and something black 
 was struggling and threshing in a pool of silver 
 water. From the sea came a loud cry " Socorro! 
 Socorro ! " 
 
 From the time the splash was heard and the cry 
 came up to the forecastle the ship had slipped a 
 hundred yards through the still waters. 
 
 Johnnie jumped up upon the bulwarks, held his 
 hands above his head for a moment, judged his
 
 270 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 distance ships were not high out of the water in 
 that day and dived into the phosphorescent sea. 
 
 He was lightly clad, and he swam strongly, with 
 the long left-arm overhand stroke conquering an 
 element with joy in the doing of it glad to be in 
 wild and furious action, happy to throw off the 
 oppression of the dreadful things which the little 
 Spaniard had droned upon the deck. He got up to 
 the man easily enough, circled round him, as he 
 rose splashing for the third time, and caught him 
 under the arm-pits, lying on his back with the other 
 above him. 
 
 The man began to struggle, trying to turn and 
 grip. 
 
 Johnnie raised his head a little from the water, 
 sinking as he did so, and pulling down the other 
 also, and shouted a Spanish curse into his ear. 
 
 "Be quiet," he said; "lie still! If you don't 
 I'll drown you ! " 
 
 Commendone was a good swimmer. He had 
 swam and dived in the lake at Commendone since 
 he was a boy. He knew now exactly what to do, 
 and his voice, though half-strangled with the salt 
 water, and his grip of the drowning man's arm- 
 pits had their effect. 
 
 There was a half-choked, "Si, Senor," and in 
 twenty to thirty seconds Johnnie lay back in the 
 warm water of the Atlantic, knowing that for a 
 few minutes, at any rate, he could support the 
 man he had come to save. 
 
 It was curious that at this moment he felt no
 
 " MISERICORDIA ET JUSTITIA " 27 1 
 
 fear or alarm whatever. His whole mind was 
 directed towards one thing that the man he had 
 dived to rescue would keep still. His mouth and 
 nose were just out of the water, when suddenly 
 there came into his mind the catch of an old song. 
 
 He heard again the high, delicate notes of the 
 Queen's lute " Time hath to siluer turn'd." . . . 
 
 Hardly knowing what he did, he even laughed 
 with pleasure at the memory. 
 
 As that was heard, a strong, lusty voice came to 
 him. 
 
 " I'm here, master, I'm here ! We shall not be 
 long now. Ah ah-h-h ! " 
 
 Hull, blowing like a grampus, had swam up to 
 them. 
 
 " I'll take him, master," he said; " do you rest 
 for a moment. They'll have us out of this 'fore 
 long." 
 
 There were no life-belts invented in those days, 
 and to lower a boat from the ship was long in 
 doing. But the St. lago was brought up with all 
 sails standing, the boat at the stern was let down 
 most gingerly into the sea, and four mariners rowed 
 towards the swimming men. It was near twenty 
 minutes before Hull and Commendone heard the 
 chunk of the oars in the rowlocks. But they heard 
 it at last. The tub-like galley shadowed them, 
 there was a loud cry of welcome and relief, and 
 then the two men, still grasping the inert figure of 
 him who had fallen overboard, caught hold of the 
 stern of the boat. Willing hands hauled the half-
 
 272 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 drowned man into the boat. Johnnie and Hull 
 clambered over the broad stern, sat down amid- 
 ships, and shook themselves. 
 
 The moonlight was still extraordinarily power- 
 ful, and gave a fallen day to this southern world. 
 
 As Commendone shot the water out of his ears, 
 he looked upon the limp, prone figure of the man 
 he had rescued. 
 
 "Dame!" he cried; "it is the torturer that 
 we've been overboard for. Pity we didn't let him 
 drown." 
 
 John Hull had turned the figure of the Spaniard 
 upon its stomach and was working vigorously at the 
 arms, using them like pump-handles, as the sailors 
 got their oars into the rowlocks again, and pulled 
 back towards the shivering, silver ship near quarter 
 of a mile away. 
 
 " I'll bring the life back to him, master," said 
 John Hull. " He's warm now there ! He's 
 vomited a pint or more of sea-water as I speak." 
 
 " I doubt he was worth saving," Johnnie said 
 in a low voice to his servant's ear. " Still, he is 
 saved, and I suppose a man like this hath a soul? " 
 
 Hull looked at Commendone in surprise. He 
 knew nothing about the man they had rescued; he 
 could not understand why his master spoke in this 
 way. 
 
 But with his usual dog-like fidelity he nodded an 
 assent, though he did not cease the pumping mo- 
 tion of the half-drowned man's arms. 
 
 " Perhaps he hath no soul, master," Hull said,
 
 " MISERICORDIA ET JUSTITIA " 273 
 
 " you know better than I. At any rate, we have 
 got him out of this here sea, and so praise God 
 Who hath given us the sturdiness to do it." 
 
 Commendone looked at his henchman and then 
 at the slowly reviving Spaniard. 
 
 " Amen," he said.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 THE SILENT MEN IN BLACK 
 
 " SING to us, Johnnie." 
 
 "Mais oui, chantez, Monsieur," said Madame 
 La Motte. 
 
 Johnnie took up a chitarrone, the archlute, a 
 large, double-necked Spanish instrument, which lay 
 upon a marble table by his side in the courtyard. 
 
 He looked up into the sky, the painted sunset 
 sky of Spain, as if to find some inspiration there. 
 
 The hum of Seville came to them in an almost 
 organ-like harmony. Bells were tolling from the 
 cathedral and the innumerable churches; pigeons 
 were wheeling round the domes and spires; occa- 
 sionally a faint burst of music reached them where 
 they sat. 
 
 The young man looked gravely at the two 
 women. His face at this moment was singularly 
 tranquil and refined. He was dressed with scrupu- 
 lous care the long journey over, his natural habits 
 resumed. He had all the air and grace of a gallant 
 in a Court. 
 
 He bowed to Madame La Motte and to his 
 sweetheart, smiling gently at them. 
 
 " By your patience, ladies," he said, " I will 
 make endeavour to improvise for you upon a theme. 
 
 274
 
 THE SILENT MEN IN BLACK 275 
 
 We have spent this day in seeing beauties such as 
 sure I never thought to see with my mortal eyes. 
 We are in the land of colour, of sweet odours; the 
 balmy smells of nard and cassia are flung about the 
 cedarn alleys where we walk. We have sucked the 
 liquid air in a veritable garden of the Hesperides, 
 and, indeed, I looked to see the three fair daughters 
 of Hesperus along those crisped shades and bowers. 
 And we have seen also" his voice was almost 
 dreaming as he spoke " the greatest church e'er 
 built to God's glory by the hand of man. 'Tis 
 indeed a mountain scooped out, a valley turned 
 upsides. The towers of the Abbey Church at 
 Westminster might walk erect in the middle nave; 
 there are pillars with the girth of towers, and 
 which appear so slender that they make one shud- 
 der as they rise from out the ground or depend 
 them from the gloomy roof like stalactites in the 
 cave of a giant." 
 
 Madame La Motte nodded, purred, and mur- 
 mured to herself. The whimsical and studied 
 Court language did not now fall upon her ears for 
 the first time. In the fashion of that age all men 
 of culture and position learnt to talk in this fashion 
 upon occasion, with classic allusion and in graceful 
 prose. 
 
 But to sweet Elizabeth it was all new and beauti- 
 ful, and as she gazed at her lover her eyes were 
 liquid with caressing wonder, her lips curved into 
 a bow of pride at such dear eloquence. 
 
 Johnnie plucked the strings of the chitarrone
 
 276 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 once or twice, and then, his eyes half closed, began 
 a simple improvisation in a minor key, the while 
 he lifted his voice and began to sing his ballad of 
 evening colours: 
 
 See! limner Phoebus paints the sky 
 
 Vermilion and gold 
 And doth with purple tapestry 
 
 The waning day enfold. 
 The royal, lucent, Tyrian dye 
 King Philip wore in Thessaly. 
 
 The Lord of Morning now doth keep 
 
 Herald for Lady Night, 
 Whose robes of black and silver sweep 
 
 Before his tabard bright. 
 All silver-soft and sable-deep, 
 As when she brought Endymion sleep ! 
 
 Now honey-coloured Luna she 
 
 Hath lit her lamp on high ; 
 And paleth in her Majestic 
 
 The twin Dioscuri. 
 Set in gold-powdered samite, she 
 Queen of the Night ! Queen of the Sea ! 
 
 His voice faded away into silence; the mellow 
 tenor ceasing in an imperceptible diminuendo of 
 sound. 
 
 There was a silence, and then Lizzie's hand stole 
 out and touched her lover's. " Oh, Johnnie," she 
 said, " how gracious ! And did those lovely words 
 come into thy head as thou sangst them? " 
 
 " In truth they did, fairest lady of evening," he 
 answered, bending low over her hand. " And 
 sure 'twas thy dear presence that sent them to me,
 
 THE SILENT MEN IN BLACK 277 
 
 the musick of thy voice hath breathed a soul into 
 this lute." 
 
 . . . They had arrived safely in Seville the 
 night before, spending three days upon the journey 
 from Cadiz, but travelling in very pleasant and 
 easy fashion. 
 
 Mr. Mew, the mate of the St. lago, had busi- 
 ness in the city, and while the vessel was discharg- 
 ing its cargo at Cadiz he went up to Seville and 
 took the four travellers with him on board an 
 alijador a long barge with quarters for passen- 
 gers, and a hold for cargo, which was propelled 
 partly by oars in the narrower reaches of the river, 
 but principally by a large lug sail. 
 
 Don Perez had remained in Cadiz, but the tall 
 and sinister young fellow whom Hull and Johnnie 
 had rescued from the Atlantic came in the barge 
 also. The fugitives from England had little to 
 say to him, knowing what he was. Alonso which 
 was the man's name had been profuse in his 
 gratitude. His profuseness, however, had been 
 mingled with a continuous astonishment, a brutish 
 wonder which was quite inexplicable to Elizabeth. 
 
 " He seemeth," she said once to her esquire, " to 
 think as if such a deed of daring as thou didst in 
 thy kindness for a fellow-creature in peril hath 
 never been known in the world before ! " 
 
 Madame La Motte and Commendone, however, 
 had said nothing. They knew very well why this 
 poor wretch, who gained his food by such a hideous 
 calling, was amazed at his rescue. They said noth-
 
 278 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 ing to the girl, however, dreading that she should 
 ever have an inkling of what the man was. 
 
 On the voyage to Seville, a happy, lazy time 
 under the bright sun, Johnnie could not quite un- 
 derstand an obvious friendship and liking which 
 seemed to have sprung up between Alonso and 
 Mr. Mew, who spoke Spanish very adequately. 
 
 " I cannot understand," he said upon one occa- 
 sion to the sturdy man from the Isle of Wight, " I 
 cannot understand, sir, how you that are an English 
 mariner can talk and consort with this tool of hell." 
 
 Mr. Mew looked at him with a dry smile. 
 " And yet, master," he said in the true Hampshire 
 idiom and drawl, " bless your heart, you jumped 
 overboard for this same man ! " 
 
 "The case is different," Johnnie said; "'twas 
 a fellow-creature, and I did as behoved me. But 
 that is no reason to be friendly with such a wretch." 
 
 " Look you, Master Commendone," said Mr. 
 Mew, " every man to his trade. I would burn 
 both hands, myself, before I'd live by sworn tor- 
 turing. But, then, 'tis not my trade. This man's 
 father and his brother have been doing of it almost 
 since birth, and they do it and sure, a good Catho- 
 lic like yourself," here he smiled dryly, " cannot 
 but remember that 'tis done under the shield and 
 order of Holy Church! The damned old Pope 
 hath ordered it." 
 
 Johnnie crossed himself. " The sovereign Pon- 
 tiff," he said, " hath established the Holy Office 
 for punishment of heretics. But the punishment is
 
 THE SILENT MEN IN BLACK 279 
 
 light and without harshness in the states of His 
 Holiness. In Spain 'tis a matter very different. 
 It was under the Holy Father Innocent IV that this 
 tribunal was created, and the Holy Office in Spain 
 differed in no wise from the comparatively in- 
 nocuous " 
 
 "What is that, master? That word?" 
 
 " It meaneth * harmless,' Master Mew. What 
 was I saying? Oh, that it differed nothing at all 
 in Spain from the harmless Council which was to 
 detect heresy and reprove it. But during the reign 
 of our good King Edward IV the Holy Office was 
 changed in Spain. The Ebrews were plotting, or 
 said to be plotting, against the realm, and they had 
 come to much wealth and power. Pope Sixtus 
 made many protests, but the right of appointing in- 
 quisitors and directing the operation of the Holy 
 Office in Spain was reserved to the Spanish Crown. 
 And from this date, Master Mew, Holy Church 
 at any rate hath disclaimed to be responsible for 
 it. That was then and is now the true feeling of 
 Rome. 'Tis true that in Spain the Church tolerates 
 the Inquisition, but its blood-stained acts are from 
 the Crown and such priests as are ministers of the 
 Crown." 
 
 Father Chilches had taught Johnnie his history, 
 truly enough. But it seemed to make very little 
 impression upon the mate. 
 
 " Art a gentleman," he said, " and know doubt- 
 less more than I, but such peddling with words and 
 splicing of facts are not to my mind. The damned
 
 280 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 old Pope say I, and always shall, when it's safe to 
 speak ! But the pith of our talk, Master Commen- 
 done, was that you would not have me give com- 
 radeship with this Alonso. I see not your point of 
 view. He is of his time and must do his duty." 
 
 The mate snapped a tarry thumb and finger with 
 a tolerant smile. " You've saved him, so that he 
 may go on with his torturin'," he said, " and I like 
 to talk with him because I find him a good fellow, 
 and that is all about it, Master Commendone." 
 
 Johnnie had not got much small change from 
 his conference with the mate, but when they ar- 
 rived at Seville, he saw him and the man called 
 Alonso no more, and his mind was directed upon 
 very other things. 
 
 They arrived at the city late at night, and their 
 mails were taken to the great inn of Seville known 
 as the Posada de las Munecas, or house of puppets, 
 so called from the fact that in days gone by, at 
 the great annual Seville fair, a famous performance 
 of marionettes had taken place in front of it. 
 
 The Posada was an old Moorish palace, as 
 beautiful under the sunlight as an Oriental song, 
 and when they rose in the morning and Johnnie had 
 despatched a serving-man to find if Don Jose Sene- 
 bria was in residence, he and his companions 
 wakened to the realisation of a loveliness of which 
 they had never dreamed. 
 
 The sky was like a great hollow turquoise; the 
 sun beat down upon the Pearl of Andalusia with 
 limpid glory, and played perpetually upon the
 
 THE SILENT MEN IN BLACK 281 
 
 white and painted walls. The orange trees, only 
 introduced into Spain some five-and-twenty years 
 before from Asia, were globed with their golden 
 fruit among the dark, jade-like leaves of polished 
 green; feathery palms with their mailed trunks 
 rose up to cut the blue, and on every side buildings 
 which glowed like immense jewels were set to greet 
 the unaccustomed northern eye. The Posada was 
 a blaze of colour, half Moorish, half Gothic, fan- 
 tastic and alluring as a rare dream. 
 
 Johnnie heard early in the morning that Don 
 Jose would be away for two days, having travelled 
 to his vineyards beyond the old Roman village of 
 Sancios. The day therefore, and the morrow also, 
 was left to them for sight-seeing. Both he and 
 Elizabeth had in part forgotten the cloud of dis- 
 tress under which they had left their native land. 
 The child often talked to him of her father, making 
 many half-shy confidences about her happy life at 
 Hadley, telling him constantly of that brave and 
 stalwart gentleman. But she now accepted all that 
 had happened with the perfect innocence and trust- 
 fulness of youth. Upon her white and stainless 
 mind what she had undergone had left but little 
 trace. Even now she only half realised her ravish- 
 ment to the house with the red door, and that Ma- 
 dame La Motte was not a pattern of kindness, 
 discretion, and fine feeling would never have 
 entered Lizzie's simple mind. She was going to be 
 married to Johnnie ! it was to be arranged almost 
 at once and then she knew that there need be no
 
 282 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 more trouble, no weariness, no further searchings 
 of heart. She and Johnnie would be together for 
 ever and ever, and that was all that mattered ! 
 
 Indeed, under these bright skies, among the gay, 
 good-humoured, and heedless people of Seville, it 
 would have been very difficult for much older and 
 more world-weary people than this young man and 
 maid to be sad or apprehensive. 
 
 It had all been a feast, a never-ending feast for 
 eye and ear. They had stood before pictures which 
 were world-famous they had seen that marvellous 
 allegory in pigment, where " a hand holds a pair of 
 scales, in which the sins of the world set forth by 
 bats, peacocks, serpents, and other emblems are 
 weighed against the emblems of the Passion of 
 Christ our Lord; and eke in the same frame, which 
 is thought to be the finer composition, Death, 
 with a coffin under one arm, is about to extinguish 
 a taper, which lighteth a table besprent with 
 crowns, jewels, and all the gewgaws of this earthly 
 pomp. ' In Ictu Oculi ' are the words which circle 
 the taper's gleaming light, while set upon the 
 ground resteth a coffin open, the corpse within being 
 dimly revealed." 
 
 They had walked through the long colonnade 
 in the palace of the Alcazar, to the baths of Maria 
 de Padilla, the lovely mistress of Pedro the Cruel, 
 " at the Court of whom it was esteemed a mark 
 of gallantry and loyalty to drink the waters of 
 the bath after that Maria had performed her ablu- 
 tions. Upon a day observing that one of his
 
 THE SILENT MEN IN BLACK 283 
 
 knights refrained from this act of homage, the 
 King questioned him, and elicited the reply, ' I 
 dare not drink of the water, Sire, lest, having tasted 
 the sauce, I should covet the partridge.' ' 
 
 All these things they had done together in their 
 love and youth, forgetting all else but the incom- 
 parable beauties of art and nature which sur- 
 rounded them, the music and splendour of Love 
 within their hearts. 
 
 ... A serving-man came through the patio. 
 
 " Puedo cenar? " Johnnie asked. " A que hora 
 es el cenar? " 
 
 The man told him that supper was ready then, 
 and together with the ladies Johnnie left the court- 
 yard and entered the long comedor, or dining-hall, 
 a narrow room with good tapestries upon the walls, 
 and a ceiling decorated with heads of warriors and 
 ladies in carved and painted stucco. 
 
 It was lit by candle, and supper was spread for 
 the three in the midde of one great table, an oasis 
 of fruit, lights, and flowers. 
 
 " Este es un vino bueno," said the waiter who 
 stood there. 
 
 " It is all good wine in Spain," Johnnie answered, 
 with a smile, as the man poured out borgona, and 
 another brought them a dish of grilled salmon. 
 
 They lifted their glasses to each other, and fell 
 to with a good appetite. Suddenly Johnnie stopped 
 eating. " Where is John Hull? " he said. "God 
 forgive me, I have not thought of him for hours." 
 
 " He will be safe enough," Madame La. Motte
 
 284 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 answered, her mouth full of salmon asado. " Mon 
 Dieuf but this fish is good! Fear not, Monsieur, 
 thy serving-man can very well take care of him- 
 self." 
 
 " I suppose so," Johnnie replied, though with a 
 little uneasiness. 
 
 "But, Johnnie," Elizabeth said, "Hull told 
 me that he was to be with Master Mew, the mate 
 of our late ship, to see the town with him, so all 
 will be well." 
 
 Johnnie lifted his goblet of wine; he had never 
 felt more free, careless, and happy in his 
 life. 
 
 " Here," he said, " is to this sweet and hospitable 
 land of Spain, whither we have come through long 
 toils and dangers. 'Tis our Latium, for as the 
 grandest of all poets, Vergil yclept, hath it, ' Per 
 varies casus, per tot discrimina rerum, tendimus in 
 Latium, sedes ubi fata quietas ostendunt' ' 
 
 " And what may that mean, Monsieur? " asked 
 Madame La Motte, pulling the botella towards 
 her. " My Credo, my Paternoster, and my Ave 
 are all my Latin." 
 
 " It means, Madame," Johnnie answered, " that 
 we have gone through many troubles and trials, 
 through all sorts of changes in affairs, but we ap- 
 proach towards Latium, which the poet meaneth 
 for Imperial Rome, where the fates will let us live 
 in peace." 
 
 " In peace ! " Elizabeth whispered. 
 
 " Aye, sweetheart mine," the young man an-
 
 THE SILENT MEN IN BLACK 285 
 
 swered; " we have won to peace at last. Thou and 
 I together! " 
 
 For a moment or two they were all silent, and 
 then the door of the comedor was suddenly opened, 
 not quietly, as for the entrance of a serving-man, 
 but flung open widely and with noise. 
 
 They all turned and looked towards the archway 
 of the door. 
 
 In a moment more six or seven people pressed 
 into the room people dressed in black, people 
 whose feet made no noise upon the floor. 
 
 Ere ever any of them at the table realised what 
 was happening, they found themselves gripped by 
 strong, firm hands, though there was never a word 
 spoken. 
 
 Before he could reach the dagger in his belt 
 for he was not wearing his sword Johnnie's 
 arms were bound to his side, and he was held 
 fast. 
 
 It was all done with strange deftness and silence, 
 Elizabeth and the Frenchwoman being held also, 
 each by two men, though their arms were not 
 bound. 
 
 Johnnie burst out in indignant English, then, 
 remembering where he was, changed to Spanish. 
 " In God's name," he cried, " what means this 
 outrage upon peaceable and quiet folk? " 
 
 His voice was loud and angry, but there was fear 
 in it as he cried out. The answer came from a tall 
 figure which came noiselessly through the door, 
 a figure in a cassock, with a large gold cross hung
 
 286 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 upon its breast, and followed by two others in the 
 dress of priests. 
 
 " Ah, Mr. Commendone, we meet again," came 
 in excellent English, as the man removed his broad- 
 brimmed felt hat. 
 
 " You have come a long way from England, 
 Mr. Commendone, you and your friends. But 
 the arm of the King, the hand of the Church, 
 which are as the arm of God Himself, can stretch 
 swiftly and very far." 
 
 Johnnie's face grew dead white as he heard the 
 well-remembered voice of Father Diego Deza. In 
 a flash he remembered that King Philip's con- 
 fessor and confidential adviser had told him that 
 he was to leave England for Spain on the morning 
 of the very day when he had rescued Elizabeth 
 from shame. 
 
 His voice rattled in his throat and came hoarsely 
 through parched lips. He made one effort, though 
 he felt that it was hopeless. 
 
 " Don Diego," he said, " I am very glad to see 
 you in Spain "= the other gave a nasty little laugh. 
 " Don Diego," Johnnie continued, " I have of- 
 fended nothing against the laws of England. 
 What means this capture and durance of myself and 
 my companions? " 
 
 ' You are not in England now, Mr. Commen- 
 done," the priest replied; "but you are in the 
 dominion of His Most Catholic Majesty; you are 
 not accused of any crime against the civil law of 
 England or of this country, but I, in my authority
 
 THE SILENT MEN IN BLACK 287 
 
 as Grand Inquisitor of the Holy Office in Seville 
 to do which duty I have now come to Spain arrest 
 you and your companions on charges which will 
 be afterwards disclosed to you. 
 
 ' Take them away," he said in Spanish to his 
 officers. 
 
 There was a horrid wail, echoing and re-echoing 
 through the long room and beating upon the ear- 
 drums of all who were there. . . . 
 
 Madame La Motte had heard all that the priest 
 had said in English. She shrieked and shrieked 
 again. 
 
 "Ah-h-h! C'est vral alors! L' inquisition ! qui 
 lance la mart! " 
 
 With extraordinary and sudden strength she 
 twisted herself away from the two sombre figures 
 which held her. She bent forward over the table, 
 snatched up a long knife, gripped the handle firmly 
 with two fat white hands, and plunged it into her 
 breast to the hilt. 
 
 For quite three seconds she stood upright. Her 
 face of horror changed into a wonder, as if she 
 was surprised at what she had done. Then she 
 smiled foolishly, like a child who realises that it 
 has made a silly mistake, coughed loudly like a 
 man, and fell in heavy death upon the floor.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 IN THE BOX 
 
 " Devant 1'Inquisition, quand on vient a jube, 
 Si Ton ne soit roti, Ton soil au moins flambe." 
 
 IT was not light that pressed upon the retina of the 
 eye. There was no vibration to the sensitive lenses. 
 It was a sudden vision not of the eye, but in the 
 memory-cells of the brain which now and then filled 
 the dreadful blackness with a fierce radiance, filled 
 it for an infinitesimal fraction of a second. 
 
 And then all was dark again. 
 
 It was not dark with the darkness that ordinary 
 men know. At no time, in all probability, has 
 any man or woman escaped a long sleepless night 
 in a darkened room. The candle is out ; the silence 
 begins to nibble at the nerves; there is no sound 
 but the uneasy tossing upon the bed. It seems, one 
 would rather say, that there is no sound save only 
 that made by the sufferer. At such hours comes a 
 dread weariness of life, a restlessness which is but 
 the physical embroidery upon despair. The body 
 itself is at the lowest pitch of its vitality. Through 
 the haunted chambers of the mind fantastic 
 thoughts chase each other, and evil things evil 
 personalities it almost seems uncoil themselves 
 and erect their heads. 
 
 288
 
 IN THE BOX 289 
 
 But it is not really darkness, not really despair, 
 as people know when the night has gone and dawn 
 begins. Nor is it really silence. The ear becomes 
 attuned to its environment; a little wind moans 
 round the house. There is the soft patter of fall- 
 ing rain the distant moaning of the sea. 
 
 Furniture creaks as the temperature changes; 
 there are rustlings, whispers, unexplained noises 
 the night is indeed full of sound. 
 
 Nor is it really darkness, as the mind discovers 
 towards the end of the sick and restless vigil. The 
 eye also is attuned to that which limits and sur- 
 rounds its potentialities. The blinds are drawn, but 
 still some faint mysterious greyness creeps between 
 them and the window. The room, then, is a real 
 room still ! Over there is the long mirror which 
 will presently begin to stir and reflect the birth- 
 pangs of light. That squat, black monster, which 
 crouches in the corner of the dark, will grow larger, 
 and become only the wardrobe after all. And soon 
 the air of the chamber will take on a subtle and in- 
 definable change. It will have a new savour, it will 
 tell that far down in the under world the sun is 
 moaning and muttering in the last throes of sleep. 
 The blackness will go. Dim, inchoate nothingness 
 will change to wan dove-coloured light, and with 
 the first chirpings of half-awakened birds the case- 
 ment will show " a slowly glimmering square," 
 and the tortured brain will sink to rest. 
 
 Day has come! There is no longer any need 
 for fear. The nervous pain, more terrible than all,
 
 290 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 has gone. The heart is calmed, the brain is soothed, 
 utter prostration and despair appears, mercifully, 
 a thing of long ago. 
 
 Some such experience as this all modern men 
 have endured. To John Commendone, in the 
 prison of the Inquisition where he had been put, 
 no such alleviation came. 
 
 For him there was no blessed morning; for him 
 the darkness was that awful negation of light 
 of physical light and of hope, which is without 
 remedy. 
 
 He did not know how long it had been since he 
 was caught up suddenly out of the rich room where 
 he was dining with his love dining among the 
 scent of flowers, with the echo of music in his ears, 
 his whole heart suffused with thankfulness and 
 peace. 
 
 He did not know how long it had been; he 
 only remembered the hurried progress in a closed 
 carriage from the hotel to the fortress of the 
 ,Triana in the suburbs, which was the prison and 
 assize of the Holy Office. 
 
 In all Europe in this era prisons were dark, 
 damp holes. They were real graves, full of mould, 
 animal filth, the pest-breeding smells. It was the 
 boast of the Inquisition, and even Llorente speaks 
 of it, that the prisons were " well-arched, light and 
 dry rooms where the prisoners could make some 
 movement." 
 
 This was generally true, and Commendone had 
 heard of it from Don Perez.
 
 IN THE BOX 291 
 
 It was not true in his case. He had been taken 
 hurriedly into the prison as night fell, marched 
 silently through interminable courtyards and pas- 
 sage-ways corridors which slanted downwards, 
 ever downwards until in a dark stone passage, 
 illuminated only by the torches which were carried 
 by those who conducted him, he had come to a 
 low door, heavily studded with iron. 
 
 This had been opened with a key. The wards 
 of the lock had shot back with a well-oiled and 
 gentle click. He had bent his head a little as 
 they pushed him into the living tomb a box of 
 stone five feet square exactly. He was nearly six 
 feet in height; he could not stand erect; he could 
 not stretch himself at full length. The thing was 
 a refinement of the dreadful " little-ease " of the 
 Tower of London and many other secular prisons 
 where wretches were tortured for a week before 
 their execution. He had heard of places like them, 
 but he realised that it was not the design of those 
 who had him fast to kill him yet. He knew that 
 he must undergo an infinity of mental and bodily 
 torture ere ever the scarred and trembling soul 
 would be allowed to wing its way from the still, 
 broken body. 
 
 He was in absolute, complete darkness, buried in 
 a box of stone. 
 
 The rayless gloom was without any relief what- 
 ever; it was the enclosing sable of death itself; a 
 pitchy oblivion that lay upon him like a solid 
 weight, a thing obscene and hopeless. And the
 
 292 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 silence was a real silence, an utter stillness such as 
 no modern man ev r er knows save only the few 
 demoniac prisoners in the cachot noir of the French 
 convict prisons of Noumea. 
 
 Once every two days if there indeed were such 
 things as days and hours in this still hell the door 
 of the cell was noiselessly opened. There was 
 a dim red glow in the stone corridor without, a 
 pitcher of water, some black bread, and every now 
 and then a few ripe figs, were pushed into the box. 
 
 Then a clang, the oily swish of the bolts, and 
 another eternity of silence. 
 
 The man's brain did not go. It was too soon 
 for that. He lay a fortnight ten thousand years 
 it seemed to him in this box of horror. 
 
 He was not to die yet. He was not even to lose 
 his mind; of that he was perfectly aware. He was 
 no ordinary prisoner. No usual fate was in store 
 for him; that also he knew. A charge of heresy 
 in his case was absurd. No witnesses could be 
 brought who, speaking truth, could condemn him 
 for heresy. But what Don Perez had told him 
 was now easily understood. He was in a place 
 where there was no appeal, a situation with no 
 egress. 
 
 There was not the slightest doubt in his mind 
 that a dreadful vengeance was to be taken upon him 
 for his treatment of the King of Spain. The Holy 
 Office was a royal court provided with ecclesiastical 
 weapons. Its familiars had got him in their grip; 
 he was to die the death.
 
 IN THE BOX 293 
 
 As he lay motionless day after day, night after 
 night, in the silence the hideous silence without 
 light the walls so close, pressing on him, forbid- 
 ding him free movement, at every moment seeming 
 as if they would rush together and crush him in 
 this night of Erebus, he began to have visitors. 
 
 Sometimes a sulphurous radiance would fill the 
 place. He would see the bowing, mocking figure 
 of King Philip, the long yellow face looking down 
 upon him with a malign smile. He would hear a 
 great hoarse voice, and a little woman with a 
 shrivelled face and covered with jewels, would 
 squeak and gibber at him. Then, with a clank 
 of armour, and a sudden fresh smell of the fields, 
 Sir Henry Commendone would stand there, with a 
 " How like you this life of the pit, Johnnie? "... 
 " How like you this blackness, my son? " 
 
 Then he would put up his hands and press these 
 grisly phantoms out of the dark. He would press 
 them away with one great effort of the will. 
 
 They would go, and he remained trembling in 
 the chill, damp negation of light, which was so far 
 more than darkness. He would grope for the 
 pieces of his miserable food, and search the earthen 
 pitcher for water. 
 
 And all this, these tortures beyond belief, be- 
 yond understanding of the ordinary man, were but 
 as soft couches to one who is weary, food to one an- 
 hungered, water to lips parched in a desert com- 
 pared with the deepest, unutterable descent of all. 
 
 The cold and stinking blackness which held him
 
 294 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 tight as a fossil in a bed of clay was not the worst. 
 His eyes that saw nothing, his limbs that were shot 
 with cramping pain, his nostrils and stomach that 
 could not endure this uncleaned cage, were a tor- 
 ture beyond thinking. 
 
 Many a time he thought of the mercy of Bishop 
 Bonner and Queen Mary the mercy that let a 
 gentleman ride under the pleasant skies of England 
 to a twenty minutes' death God ! these were 
 pleasant tortures ! His own present hopelessness, 
 all that he endured in body why, dear God ! these 
 were but pleasant tortures too, things to bite upon 
 and endure, compared with the Satanic horror, the 
 icy dread, the bitter, hopeless tears, when he 
 thought of Elizabeth. 
 
 He had long since ceased praying for himself. 
 It mattered little or nothing what happened to him. 
 That he should be taken out to torture would be a 
 relief, a happiness. He would lie in the rack laugh- 
 ing. They could fill his belly with water, or strain 
 the greasy hempen ropes into his flesh, and still he 
 would laugh and forgive them Dr. Taylor had 
 forgiven less than they would do to him, he would 
 forgive more than all for the sake of Christ and 
 His Maid-Mother. How easy that would be ! To 
 be given something to endure, to prove himself a 
 man and a Christian! 
 
 But to forgive them for what they might be 
 doing, they might have done, to his dear lady 
 how could he forgive that to these bloodstained 
 men?
 
 IN THE BOX 295 
 
 Through all the icy hours he thought of one 
 thing, until his own pains vanished to nothingness. 
 
 Perchance, and the dreadful uncertainty in his 
 utter impotence and silence swung like a bell in his 
 brain, and cut through his soul like the swinging 
 pendola which they said the familiars of the Holy 
 Office used, Elizabeth had already suffered un- 
 speakable things. 
 
 He saw again a pair of hands cruel hands 
 hands with thick thumbs. Had hands like these 
 grasped and twisted the white limbs of the girl he 
 loved? Divorced from him, helpless, away from 
 any comfort, any kind voice, was it not true was 
 it true ? that already his sweetheart had been tor- 
 tured to her death? 
 
 He had tried over and over again to pray for 
 Elizabeth, to call to the seat where God was, that 
 He might save the dear child from these torments 
 unspeakable. 
 
 But there was always the silence, the dead phys- 
 ical blackness and silence. He beat his hands upon 
 the stone wall; he bruised his head upon the roof 
 of darkness which would not let him stand upright, 
 and he knew as it is appointed to some chosen 
 men to know that unutterable, unthinkable de- 
 spair of travail which made Our Lord Himself 
 call out in the last hour of His passion, 'HXi, 'HAi, 
 
 Xa/ia (rafta^fdavf. 
 
 There was no response to his prayers. Into 
 his heart came no answering message of hope. 
 And then the mind of this man, which had borne
 
 296 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 so much, and suffered so greatly, began to become 
 powerless to feel. A bottle can only hold a certain 
 amount of water, the strings of an instrument be 
 plucked to a certain measure of sound, the brain 
 of a man can endure up to a certain strain, and then 
 it snaps entirely, or is drowsed with misery. 
 
 Physically, the young man was in perfect health 
 when they had taken him to his prison. He had 
 lived always a cleanly and athletic life. No sensual 
 ease had ever dimmed his faculties. And there- 
 fore, though he knew it not, the frightful mental 
 agony he had undergone had but drawn upon the 
 reserve of his physical forces, and had hardly in- 
 jured his body at all. The food they gave him, at 
 any rate for the time of his disappearance from the 
 world of sentient beings, was enough to support 
 life. And while he lay in dreadful hopelessness, 
 while his limbs were racked with pain, and it 
 seemed to him that he stood upon the very thresh- 
 old of death, he was in reality physically com- 
 petent, and a few hours of relief would bring his 
 body back to its pristine strength. 
 
 There came a time when he lay upon his stone 
 floor perfectly motionless. The merciful anodyne 
 that comes to all tortured people when either the 
 brain or body can bear no more, had come to him 
 now. 
 
 It seemed but a short moment in reality it was 
 several hours since his jailors, those masked still- 
 moving figures, had brought him a renewal of his 
 food. He could not eat the bread, but two figs
 
 IN THE BOX 297 
 
 upon the platter were grateful and cooling to his 
 throat, though he was unconscious of any physical 
 gratification. He knew, sometime after, that sus- 
 tenance had been brought to him, and that he had 
 a great thirst. He stretched out his hand mechani- 
 cally for the pitcher, rising from the floor and 
 pressing the brim to his lips. 
 
 He drank deeply, and as he drank became sud- 
 denly aware that this was not the lukewarm water 
 of the past darkness, but something that ran 
 through his veins, that swiftly ran through them, 
 and as the blood mounted to his brain gave him 
 courage, awoke him, fed the starved nerves. It 
 was wine he was drinking ! wine that perhaps would 
 be red in the light; wine that once more filled him 
 with endeavour, and a desperate desire which was 
 not hope but the last protest against his fate. 
 
 He lay back once more, by no means the same 
 man he had been some little time agone, and as 
 he reclined in a happy physical stupor the while 
 his brain was alive again and began to work he 
 said many times to himself the name of Jesus. 
 
 ' Jesus ! Jesus ! Jesus ! " it was all he could say; 
 it was all he could think of, it was his last prayer. 
 Just the name alone. 
 
 And very speedily the prayer was answered. 
 Out of the depths he cried " De profundis 
 clamavit" and the door opened, as it opened to 
 the Apostle Paul, and the place where he was was 
 filled with red light. 
 
 For a moment he was unable to realise it. He
 
 298 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 passed one wasted and dirty hand before his eyes. 
 " Jesus ! " he said again, in a dreamy, wondering 
 voice. 
 
 He felt himself lifted up from where he lay. 
 Two strong hands were under his arms; he was 
 taken out of the stinking oubliette into the corridor 
 beyond. 
 
 He stood upright. He stretched out his arms. 
 He breathed another air. It was a damp, foetid, 
 underground air, but it seemed to him that it came 
 from the gardens of the Hesperides. 
 
 Then he became conscious of a voice speaking 
 quietly, quickly, and with great insistence. 
 
 The voice in his ear! 
 
 ..." Senor, we have had to wait. You have 
 had to lie in this dungeon, and I could do nothing 
 for you for you that saved my life. It hath taken 
 many days to think out a plan to save you and the 
 Senorita. But 'tis done now, 'tis cut and dried, and 
 neither you nor she shall go to the death designed 
 for you both. It hath been designed by the As- 
 sessor and the Procurator Fiscal, acting under 
 orders of the Grand Inquisitor, that you shall be 
 tortured to death, or near to it, and that to the 
 Senorita shall be done the same. Then you are to 
 be taken to the Quemadero that great altar of 
 stone supported by figures of the Holy Apostles 
 and there burnt to death at the forthcoming auto 
 da fe." 
 
 " Then what," Johnnie's voice came from him 
 in a hollow whisper.
 
 IN THE BOX 299 
 
 "Hush, hush," the other voice answered him; 
 " 'tis all arranged. Tis all settled, but still it 
 dependeth upon you, Sefior. Will you save your 
 lady love, and go free with her from here, and 
 with your servant also, or will you die and let her 
 die too?" 
 
 " Then she hath not been tortured? " 
 
 " Not yet; it is for to-night. You come after- 
 wards. But you do not know me, Sefior; you do 
 not realise who I am." 
 
 At this Johnnie looked into the face of the man 
 who supported him. 
 
 "Ah," he said, in a dreamy voice, " Alonso! 
 I took you from the sea, did not I? ' 
 
 Everything was circling round him, he wanted 
 to fall, to lie down and sleep in this new air. . . . 
 
 The torturer saw it he had a dreadful knowl- 
 edge of those who were about to faint. He caught 
 hold of Johnnie somewhere at the back of the 
 neck. There was a sudden scientific pressure of 
 the flat thumb upon a nerve, and the sinking senses 
 of the captive came back to him in a flood of pain- 
 ful consciousness. 
 
 " Ah ! " he cried, " but I feel better now ! Go 
 on, go on, tell me, what is all this? ..." 
 
 One big thumb was pressed gently at the back of 
 Johnnie's head. " It is this," said the voice, " and 
 now, Senor, listen to me as if you had never listened 
 to any other voice in this whole world. In the first 
 place, you have much money ; you have much money 
 to be employed for you, in the hands of your serv-
 
 300 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 ant, and from him I hear that you are noble and 
 wealthy in England. I myself am a young man, 
 but lately introduced to do the work I do. I am in 
 debt, Senor, and neither my father nor my brother 
 will help me. There is a family feud between us. 
 Now my father is the head sworn-torturer of the 
 Holy Office; my brother is his assistant, and I am 
 the assistant to my brother. The three of us do 
 rack and put to pain those who come before us. 
 But I myself am tired of this business, and would 
 away to a country where I can earn a more honest 
 and kindly living. Therefore if thou wilt help 
 me to do this, all will be well. There is a carrack 
 sailing for the port of Rome this very night, and 
 we can all be aboard of it, and save ourselves, if 
 thou wilt do what we have made a plan of." 
 
 "And what is that?" Johnnie asked. 
 
 " 'Tis a dangerous and deadly thing. We may 
 win a way to safety and joy, or it may be that we 
 perish. I'll put it upon the throw of the die, and 
 so must you, Senor." 
 
 Johnnie clutched Alonso by the arm. " Man ! 
 man ! " he said, " there is some doubt in your voice. 
 What is it? what is it? I would do anything but 
 lose my immortal soul to save the Senorita from 
 what is to be done to her to-night." 
 
 " 'Tis well," the other answered briefly. " Then 
 now I will tell you what you must do. 'Tis now 
 the hour of sunset. In two hours more the Senorita 
 will be brought to the rooms of the Question. Thy 
 servant is of the height and build of my father.
 
 IN THE BOX 301 
 
 Thou art the same as regards my brother. If you 
 consent to what I shall tell you, you and your serv- 
 ant will take the place of my brother and father. 
 No one will know you from them, because we wear 
 black linen garments and a hood which covereth 
 our faces. I will go away, and I will put something 
 in their wine which will send my father and my 
 brother to sleep for long hours sometimes we put 
 it in the water we give to drink to those who come 
 to us for torture, and who are able, or their rela- 
 tives indeed, to pay well for such service. My 
 people will know nothing, and you, with Juan thy 
 servant, will take their places. Nor will the In- 
 quisitor know. It hath been well thought out, 
 Senor. I shall give you your directions, and under- 
 standing Spanish you will follow them out as if 
 you were indeed my blood-brother. As for the 
 man Juan, it will be your part to whisper to him 
 what he has to do, for I cannot otherwise make 
 him understand." 
 
 Suddenly a dreadful thought flashed into John- 
 nie's mind. This man understood no word of 
 English. How, then, had he plotted this scheme 
 of rescue and escape with John Hull, Was this 
 not one of those dreadful traps themselves part 
 of a devilish scheme of torture of which he had 
 heard in England, and of which Don Perez had 
 more than hinted? 
 
 " And how dost thou understand my man John," 
 he said, " seeing that thou knowest no word of his 
 language ? "
 
 302 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 The other made an impatient movement of his 
 hands. " Sefior," he said, " I marked that you did 
 not seem to trust me. I am here to adventure my 
 life, in recompense for that you did so forme. I am 
 here also to get away from Spain with the aid of 
 thy money to get away to Rome, where the Holy 
 Office will reach none of us. In doing this, I am 
 risking my life, as I have said. And for me I am 
 risking far more than life. I, that have done so 
 many grievous things to others, am a great coward, 
 and go in horrid fear of pain. I could not stand 
 the least of the tortures, and if I am caught in this 
 enterprise, I shall endure the worst of all. In any 
 case, thou hast nothing to lose, for if I am indeed 
 endeavouring to entrap you, you will gain nothing. 
 The worst is reserved for you as we have previous 
 orders for it is whispered that yours is not so 
 much a matter of heresy, but that you did things 
 against King Philip's Majesty in England." 
 
 Johnnie nodded. " 'Tis true," he said; "but 
 still, tell me for a further sign and token of thy 
 fidelity how thou earnest to be in communication 
 with John Hull." 
 
 "Did I not tell thee?" the man answered, in 
 amazement. " Why, 'twas through the second 
 captain of the St. lago, I cannot say his name, who 
 hath been with Juan these many days, and speakest 
 Spanish near as well as you." 
 
 Johnnie realised the truth at once, surprised that 
 it had not come to him before. It was Mr. 
 Mew, whom he had tackled for his friendship
 
 IN THE BOX 303 
 
 with Alonso! "Then what am I to do?" he 
 said. 
 
 Alonso began to speak slowly and with some 
 hesitation. 
 
 " The work to do to-night," he said, " is to 
 put a Carthusian monk, Luis Mercader, to the 
 torture of the trampezo. After that, the Senorita 
 will be brought in, interrogated, and is to be 
 scourged as the first of her tortures." 
 
 The man started away Johnnie had growled in 
 his throat like a dog. . . . 
 
 " It will not be, it will not be, Senor," Alonso 
 said. " When Luis is finished with, he will be 
 taken away by the surgeon and afterwards by the 
 jailors. Then they will bring the Senorita and 
 retire. There will be none in the room of the Ques- 
 tion but thou, Juan, and myself, wearing our linen 
 hoods, and Father Deza, that is the Grand In- 
 quisitor newly come from England, his notary, and 
 the physician. The doors leading to the prisons 
 will be locked, for none must see the torture save 
 only the officials concerned therein as hath long 
 been the law. It will be easy for us three to over- 
 power the Inquisitor, the surgeon, and the notary. 
 Then we can escape through the private rooms of 
 us torturers, which lead to the back entrance of the 
 fortress. The caballeros will not be discovered, if 
 bound or killed, indeed for some hours, for none 
 are allowed to approach the room of Question 
 from the prisons until they are summoned by a 
 bell. I shall have everything ready, and mules
 
 3 o 4 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 waiting, so that we may go straight to the muelle 
 the wharf to which the carrack is tied. The cap- 
 tain thereof is the Italian mariner Pozzi, who hath 
 no love towards Spain, and we shall be upon the 
 high seas before even our absence is discovered." 
 
 " Good," Johnnie answered, his voice uncon- 
 sciously assuming the note of command it was wont 
 to use, the wine having reanimated him, his whole 
 body and brain tense with excitement, ready for 
 the daring deed that awaited him. 
 
 " My friend," he said, " I will not only take 
 you away from all this wickedness and horror, but 
 you shall have money enough to live like a gentle- 
 man in Italy. I have now I understand it 
 plenty of money in the hands of my servant to 
 bring us well to Rome. Once in Rome, I can send 
 letters to my friends in England, and be rich in a 
 few short months. I shall not forget you ; I shall 
 see to your guerdon." 
 
 The man spat upon his hands and rubbed them 
 together those large prehensile hands. " I knew 
 it," he said, half to himself, " I pay a debt for 
 my life, as is but right and just, and I win a for- 
 tune too ! I knew it ! " 
 
 " Tell me exactly what is to happen," Johnnie 
 said. 
 
 In the flickering light of the torch, once more 
 Alonso looked curiously at Commendone. He hesi- 
 tated for a moment, and then he spoke. 
 
 " There is just the business of the heretic Luis," 
 he said. " He must be tortured before ever the
 
 IN THE BOX 305 
 
 Senorita is brought in. And you and Juan must 
 help in the torture to sustain your parts." 
 
 Johnnie started. Until this very moment he had 
 not realised that hideous necessity. He under- 
 stood Alonso's hesitation now. 
 
 There was a dead silence for a moment or two. 
 Alonso broke it. 
 
 " I shall do the principal part, Senor," he said 
 hurriedly. " It is nothing to me. I have done so 
 much of it ! But there are certain things that thou 
 must do and thy servant also, or at least must 
 seem to do. There is no other way." 
 
 Johnnie put his poor soiled hands to his face. 
 " I cannot do it," he said, in a low voice, from 
 which hope, which had rung in it before, had now 
 departed. " I cannot do it. I will not stain my 
 honour thus." 
 
 " So said Juan to me at first," the other an- 
 swered. " They have been hunting high and low 
 for Juan, but he hath escaped the Familiars, in that 
 I have hid him. For himself, Juan said he would 
 do nothing of the sort, but for you he finally said 
 he would do it. * For, look you,' Juan said to 
 me, ' I love the gentleman that is my master, and 
 I love my little mistress better, so that I will even 
 help to torture this Spaniard, and let no word 
 escape me in the doing of it that may betray our 
 design.' That was what thy servant said, Senor. 
 And now, what sayest thou?" 
 
 "She would not wish it," Commendone half 
 said, half sobbed. " If she knew, she would die
 
 3 o6 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 a thousand deaths rather than that I should 
 do it." 
 
 ' That may be very sure, Sefior, but she will 
 never know it if we win to safety. And as for this 
 Luis Mercader, he must die, anyhow. There is no 
 hope for him. He must be tortured, if not by you, 
 Juan, and I, then by myself, my father, and my 
 brother. It is remediless." 
 
 " I cannot do evil that good may come," John- 
 nie replied, in a whisper. 
 
 Alonso stamped upon the ground in his impa- 
 tience. He could not understand the prisoner's 
 attitude, though he had realised some possibility 
 of it from his conferences with John Hull. He had 
 half known, when he came to Commendone, that 
 there would be something of this sort. If the 
 rough man of his own rank turned in horror and 
 dislike from the only opportunity presented for 
 saving the Senorita, how much more would the 
 master do so? 
 
 For himself, he could not understand it. He 
 did his hideous work with the regularity of a 
 machine, and with as little pity. Outside in his 
 private life, he was much as other men. He could 
 be tender to a woman he loved, kindly and generous 
 to his friends. But business was business, and he 
 was hardly human at his work. 
 
 Habit makes slaves of us all, and this mental 
 attitude of the sworn torturer horrible as it may 
 seem at first glance is very easily understood by 
 the psychologist, though hardly by the sentimental-
 
 IN THE BOX 307 
 
 ist, who is always a thoroughly illogical person. 
 Alonso tortured human beings. In doing this he 
 had the sanction and the order of his social su- 
 periors and his ecclesiastical directors. In 1910 
 one has not heard, for example, that a pretty and 
 gentle girl refuses to marry a butcher because he 
 plunges his knife into the neck of the sheep tied 
 down upon the stool, twists his little cord around 
 the snout of some shrieking pig and cuts its throat 
 with his keen blade. . . . 
 
 Alonso could not understand the man whom he 
 hoped to save, but he recognised and was prepared 
 for his point of view. 
 
 " Senor," he said, in a thick, hurried voice, " I 
 will do it all myself. You will have to help in the 
 binding, and to stand by. That is all. Think of 
 the little Senorita whom you love. That French 
 lady drove a table-knife into her heart, rather than 
 endure the torments. Think of the Senorita ! 
 You will not let her die thus? For you, it is dif- 
 ferent; I well know that you would endure all that 
 is in store, if it were but a question of saving your 
 own life. But you must think of her, and you must 
 remember always that the man Luis is most cer- 
 tainly doomed, and that no action of yours can stay 
 that doom. You will have to look on, that is all 
 to seem as if you approved and were helping." 
 
 He had said enough. His cause was won. 
 Johnnie had seen Dr. Rowland Taylor die in pious 
 agony, and had neither lifted voice nor drawn 
 sword to prevent it.
 
 308 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 " I thank you, I thank you, Alonso," he said. 
 " I must endure it for the sake of the Senorita. 
 And more than all I thank you that you will not 
 require me to agonise this unhappy wretch my- 
 self." 
 
 "Good; that is understood," Alonso answered. 
 " We have already been talking too long. Get 
 you back, Senor, into your prison, for an hour or 
 more. Then I will come to you. Indeed, more de- 
 pends upon this than upon any other detail of what 
 we purpose. We who are sworn to torture are 
 distinct and separate from the prison jailors. We 
 are paid a larger salary, but we have no jurisdic- 
 tion or power within the prisons themselves, save 
 only what we make by interest. But the man who 
 bringeth you your food is a friend of my family, 
 and hath cast an eye upon my sister, though she 
 as yet has responded little to his overtures. I have 
 made private cause with Isabella, and she hath 
 given him a meeting this very night outside the 
 church of Santa Ana. He could not meet with 
 her this night, were it not for my intervention. He 
 came to me in great perplexity, longing before any- 
 thing to meet Isabella. I told him, though I was 
 difficult to be approached on the point, that I would 
 myself look after the prisoners in this ward, and 
 that he must give me his keys. This he hath done, 
 and I am free of this part of the prison. So that, 
 Senor, in an hour or two I shall come to you again 
 with your dress of a tormentor. I shall take you 
 through devious ways out of the prison proper, and
 
 IN THE BOX 309 
 
 into our room on the other side of the Chamber, so 
 all will be well." 
 
 Johnnie took the huge splay hand in his, and 
 stumbled back into the stone box. There was a 
 clang as the door closed upon him, and he sank 
 down upon the floor. 
 
 He sank down upon the floor no longer in abso- 
 lute despair. The darkness was as thick and hor- 
 rible as ever, but Hope was there. 
 
 Then he knelt, placed his hands together, re- 
 cited a Paternoster, and began to pray. He prayed 
 first of all for the soul of the man the unknown 
 man whose semi-final torture he was to witness, 
 and perchance help in. Then he prayed to Our 
 Lord that there might be a happy issue out of these 
 present afflictions, that if it pleased Jesus he, Eliza- 
 beth, the stout John Hull might yet sail away over 
 the tossing seas towards safety. 
 
 Then he made a prayer for the soul of Madame 
 La Motte she who had traded upon virtue, she 
 who had taken her own life, but in whom was yet 
 some germ of good, a well and fountain of kindli- 
 ness and sympathy withal. 
 
 After that he pulled himself together, felt his 
 muscle, stretched himself to see that his great and 
 supple strength had not deserted him, and remained 
 with a placid mind, waiting for the opening of his 
 prison door again. 
 
 The anguish of his thoughts about Elizabeth 
 was absolutely gone. A cool certainty came to him 
 that he would save her.
 
 3 io HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 He was waiting now, alert and aware. Every 
 nerve was ready for the enterprise. With a scrutiny 
 of his own consciousness for he perfectly realised 
 that death might still be very near he asked him- 
 self if he had performed all his religious duties. 
 If he were to die in the next hour or so, he would 
 have no sacramental absolution. That he knew. 
 Therefore, he was endeavouring to make his 
 private peace with God, and as he looked upon his 
 thoughts with the higher super-brain, it did not 
 seem to him that there was anything lacking in his 
 pious resignation to what should come. 
 
 He was going to make a bold and desperate bid 
 for Lizzie's freedom, his own, and their mutual 
 happiness. 
 
 As well as he was able, he had put his house in 
 order, and was waiting. 
 
 But for Don Diego Deza he did not pray at 
 all. He was but human. That he lacked power 
 to do, and in so far fell away from the Example. 
 
 But as he thought of It, and the words so 
 sacrosanct, he remembered that the torturers of 
 Christ knew not what they did. They were even 
 as this man Alonso. 
 
 But Don Diego, cultured, highly sensitive, a 
 brilliant man, knew what he did very well. 
 
 Even the young man's wholly contrite and more 
 than half-broken heart could send no message to 
 the Throne for the Grand Inquisitor of Seville.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 " TENDIMUS IN LATIUM " 
 
 IT was very hot. 
 
 Commendone stood in the ante-chamber of the 
 torturers. 
 
 He wore the garment of black linen, the hood 
 of the same, with the two circular orifices for his 
 eyes. 
 
 John Hull kept touching him with an almost 
 caressing movement John Hull, a grotesque and 
 terrible figure also in his torturer's dress. 
 
 Alonso moved about the place hurriedly, putting 
 this and that to rights, looking after his instru- 
 ments, but with a flitting, bird-like movement, 
 showing how deeply he was excited. 
 
 The room was a long, low place. The ceiling 
 but just above their heads. A glowing fire was 
 at one end, and shelves all round the room. At 
 one side of the fire was a portable brazier of iron, 
 glowing with coals, and on the top of it a shape of 
 white-hot metal was lying. 
 
 Alonso came up to Commendone, a dreadful 
 black figure, a silently moving figure, with noth- 
 ing humanly alive about him save only the two slits 
 through which his eyes might be seen. 
 
 3"
 
 3 12 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 " Courage, Senor," he whispered, " it will not be 
 long now." 
 
 Johnnie, unaware that he himself was an equally 
 hideous and sinister figure, nodded, and swallowed 
 something in his throat. 
 
 John Hull, short, broad, and dreadful in this 
 black disguise, sidled up to him. 
 
 " Master," he whispered, " it will soon be over, 
 and we shall win away. We have been in a very 
 evil case before, and that went well. Now that we 
 are dressed in these grave-clothes and must do bit- 
 ter business, we must make up our minds to 
 do it. 'Tis for the sake of Mistress Elizabeth, 
 whom we love Jesus! what is that hell-hound 
 doing?" 
 
 The broad figure shuddered, and into the kindly 
 English voice came a note of horror. 
 
 Johnnie turned also, and saw that the torturer 
 was tumbling several long-handled pincers into a 
 wooden tray. Then the torturer took one of them 
 up, and turned the glowing something in the 
 brazier, quietly, professionally, though the red glow 
 that fell upon his horrible black costume gave him 
 indeed the aspect of a devil from the pit the 
 bloody pantomime which was designed ! 
 
 The two Englishmen stood shoulder to shoulder 
 and shuddered, as they saw this figure moving 
 about the glowing coals. 
 
 Johnnie took a half-step forward, when Hull 
 pressed him back. 
 
 11 God's death, master," Hull said. " We look
 
 "TENDIMUS IN LATIUM " 313 
 
 like that; we are even as he is in aspect; we have 
 to do our work now ! " 
 
 A door to the right suddenly swung open. Two 
 steps led up to it, and a face peeped round. It was 
 the face of a bearded man, with heavy eyebrows 
 and very white cheeks. Upon the head was a 
 biretta of black velvet. 
 
 The head nodded. " We are ready," came the 
 voice from it. The door fell to again. 
 
 Then Alonso came up to Johnnie. " The work 
 begins," he said, in a gruff voice, from which all 
 respect had gone with design. " You and Juan 
 will carry in that brazier of coals." 
 
 He went to the door, mounted the two stone 
 steps, and held it open. Johnnie and Hull bore in 
 the brazier up the steps, and into a large room lit, 
 but not very brightly, with candles set in sconces 
 upon the walls. 
 
 Following the directions of Alonso, they placed 
 the brazier in a far corner, and stood by it, waiting 
 in silence. 
 
 They were in a big, arched dungeon, far under 
 ground, as it seemed. At one end of it there was 
 an alcove, brilliantly lit. In the alcove was a dais, 
 or platform. On the platform was a long table 
 draped with black, and set with silver candlesticks. 
 On the wall behind was a great crucifix of white 
 and black the figure of the Christ made of plaster, 
 or white painted wood, the cross of ebony. In the 
 centre of the long table sat Don Diego Deza. On 
 one side of him was a man in a robe of velvet and a
 
 3 i4 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 flat cap. On the other, the person who had peeped 
 through the door into the room of the torturers. 
 
 There came a beating, a heavy, muffled knock, 
 upon a door to the left of the alcove. 
 
 Alonso left the others and hurried to the door. 
 With some effort he pulled back a lever which con- 
 trolled several massive bolts. The door swung 
 open, there was a red glare of torches, and two 
 dark figures, piloted by the torturer, half-led, half- 
 carried the bound figure of a man into the room. 
 
 They placed this figure upon an oak stool with 
 a high back, a yard or two away from the dai's, and 
 then quietly retired. 
 
 As the door leading to the prison closed, Alonso 
 shot the bolts into their place, and, returning, stood 
 by the stool on which was the figure. 
 
 The notary came down from the platform, fol- 
 lowed by the physician. In his hand was a parch- 
 ment and a pen; while a long ink-horn depended 
 from his belt. Father Deza was left alone at the 
 table above. 
 
 " I have read thy depositions," the Inquisitor 
 said, speaking down to the man, " wherein thou 
 hast not refuted in detail the terrible blasphemies 
 of Servetus, and therefore, Luis Mercader, I thank 
 the Son of God, Who deputeth to me the power to 
 sentence thee at the end of this thy struggle be- 
 tween Holy Church and thine own obstinate blas- 
 phemies. In accordance with justice of my brother 
 inquisitors, I now sign thy warrant for death, 
 which is indeed our right and duty to execute a
 
 "TENDIMUS IN LATIUM " 315 
 
 blasphemous person after a regular examination. 
 Thou art to be burnt anon at the forthcoming Act 
 of Faith. Thou art to be delivered to the secular 
 arm to suffer this last penalty. Thy blood shall not 
 be upon our heads, for the Holy Office is ever 
 merciful. But before thou goest, in our kindness 
 we have ordained that thou shalt learn something 
 of the sufferings to come. For so only, between 
 this night and the day of thy death, shalt thou have 
 opportunity to reason with thyself, perchance recant 
 thy errors, and make thy peace with God." 
 
 He had said this in a rapid mutter, a monotone 
 of vengeance. As he concluded he nodded to the 
 black figure by the prisoner's chair. 
 
 Alonso turned round. With shaking footsteps, 
 Hull and Johnnie came up to him, carrying 
 ropes. 
 
 There was a quick whisper. 
 
 " Tie him up thus yes, the hands behind the 
 back of the stool; the left leg bound fast it is the 
 right foot upon which we put the trampezo." 
 
 They did it deftly and quietly. Under the long 
 linen garments which concealed them, their hearts 
 were beating like drums, their throats were parched 
 and dry, their eyes burnt as they looked out upon 
 this dreadful scene. 
 
 The notary went back to the dais, and sat beside 
 Father Deza. The surgeon took Alonso aside. 
 Johnnie heard what he said . . . 
 
 " It will be all right; he can bear it; he will not 
 die ; in any case the auto da fe will be in three days ;
 
 316 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 he must endure it; have the water ready to bring 
 him back if he fainteth." 
 
 The chirurgeon went back to the alcove and sat 
 on the other side of the Inquisitor. 
 
 " Bring up the brazier," Alonso said to Com- 
 mendone. 
 
 Together Johnnie and Hull carried it- to the 
 chair. 
 
 " Now send Juan for the pincers ..." 
 
 There came a long, low wail of despair from the 
 broken, motionless figure on the stool. The long 
 pincers, like those with which a blacksmith pulls 
 out a shoe from the charcoal, were produced. . . . 
 
 The torturer took the glowing thing on the top 
 of the brazier, and pulled it off, scattering the coals 
 as he did so. 
 
 Close to the foot of the bound figure he placed 
 the glowing shoe. Then he motioned to Hull to 
 take up the other side of it with his pincers, and 
 put it in place so that the foot of the victim should 
 be clamped to it and burnt away. 
 
 John Hull took up the long pincers, and caught 
 hold of one side of the shoe. 
 
 Johnnie turned his head away; he looked straight 
 through his black hood at the three people on the 
 dai's. 
 
 The notary was quietly writing. ,The surgeon 
 was looking on with cool professional eye; but 
 Don Deza was watching the imminent horror be- 
 low him with a white face which dripped with 
 sweat, with eyes dilated to two rims, gazing, gaz-
 
 "TENDIMUS IN LATIUM " 317 
 
 ing, drinking the sight in. Every now and again 
 the Inquisitor licked his pallid lips with his tongue. 
 And in that moment of watching, Johnnie knew 
 that Cruelty, for the sake of Cruelty, the mad 
 pleasure of watching suffering in its most hideous 
 forms, was the hidden' vice, the true nature, of this 
 priest of Courts. 
 
 At the moment, and doubtless at many other 
 moments in the past, Father Deza was compensat- 
 ing, and had compensated, for a life of abstinence 
 from sensual indulgence. He was giving scope to 
 the deadlier vices of the heart, pride, bigotry, in- 
 tolerance, and horrid cruelty those vices far more 
 opposed to the hope of salvation, and far more 
 extensively mischievous to society, than anything 
 the sensualist can do. 
 
 The bitterness of it; the horror of it this was 
 the wine the brilliant priest was drinking, had 
 drunk, and would ever drink. Into him had come 
 a devil which had killed his soul, and looked out 
 from his narrow twitching eyes, rejoicing that it 
 saw these things with the symbol of God's pain 
 high above it, with the cloak of God's Church upon 
 his shoulders. 
 
 As Johnnie watched, fascinated with an unname- 
 able horror, he heard a loud shout close to his ear. 
 He saw a black-hooded, thick figure pass him and 
 rush towards the dai's. 
 
 In the hands of this figure was a long pair of 
 blacksmith's pincers, and at the end of the pincers 
 was a shoe of white-hot metal.
 
 3 i8 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 There was another loud shout, a broad band 
 of white light, as the mass of glowing metal shot 
 through the air in a hissing arc, and then the face 
 of the Inquisitor disappeared and was no more. 
 
 At that moment both Commendone and the 
 sworn torturer realised what had happened. They 
 leapt nimbly on to the dais. From under his robe 
 Alonso took a stiletto and plunged it into the throat 
 of the notary; while Johnnie, in a mad fury, caught 
 the physician by the neck, placed his open hand 
 upon the man's chin, and bent his head back, 
 slowly, steadily, and with terrible pressure, until 
 there was a faint click, and the black-robed figure 
 sank down. 
 
 The trampezo was burning into the wooden floor 
 of the dai's. Alonso ran back into the room, caught 
 up a pail of water, and poured it upon the gather- 
 ing flames. There was a hiss, and a column of 
 steam rose up into the alcove. 
 
 He turned his head and looked at the motionless 
 form of the Inquisitor. The face was all black and 
 red, and rising into white blisters. 
 
 He turned to Commendone. " He's dead, or 
 dying," he said, " and now, thou hast indeed cast 
 the die, and all is over. Thy man hath spoilt it 
 all, and nothing remains for us but death." 
 
 " Silence ! " Johnnie answered, captain of him- 
 self now, and of all of them there. " How is the 
 next prisoner to be summoned?" 
 
 The torturer understood him. " Why," he said, 
 " we may yet save ourselves I that bell there "
 
 "TENDIMUS IN LATIUM " 319 
 
 he pointed to a hanging cord. " That summons 
 the jailors. They are waiting to bring the Senorita 
 for judgment. Don Luis, there, who was to undergo 
 the trampezo, would not have been taken back into 
 the prison at once, but into our room, where the 
 surgeon would have attended him. Therefore, we 
 will ring for the Senorita. She will be pushed into 
 this place very gently. The door will not be opened 
 wide. Doors are never widely opened in the Holy 
 Office. The jailors will see us taking charge of her, 
 and all will be well. If not, get your poignard 
 ready, Senor, and you, too, Juan, for 'twill be better 
 to die a fighting death in this cellar than to wait for 
 what would come hereafter." 
 
 He stretched out his hand and pulled down the 
 bell-cord. 
 
 They stood waiting in absolute silence, Alonso 
 and John Hull, in their dreadful disguise, standing 
 close to the door. 
 
 There was not a sound in the brilliantly lit room. 
 The victim that was to be had fainted away, and 
 lay as dead as the three corpses upon the dais. 
 There was a smell of hot coal, of burning wood, 
 and still there came a little sizzling noise from the 
 half-quenched glowing iron upon the platform. 
 
 Thud! 
 
 A quiet answering knock from Alonso. Another 
 thud the heave of the lever, the slither of the 
 bolts, the door opening a little, murmured voices, 
 and a low, shuddering cry of horror, as a tall girl, 
 in a long woollen garment, a coarse garment of
 
 320 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 wool dyed yellow, was pushed into the embrace 
 of the black-hooded figures who stood waiting for 
 her. 
 
 Clang the bolts were shot back. 
 
 Then a tearing, ripping noise, as Hull pulled 
 the black hood from his face and shoulders. 
 
 " My dear, my dear," he cried, " Miss Lizzie. 
 'Tis over now. Fear nothing! I and thy true 
 love have brought thee to safety." 
 
 The girl gave a great cry. " Johnnie ! 
 Johnnie!" 
 
 He rushed up to her, and held her in his arms. 
 He was still clothed in the dreadful disguise of a 
 torturer. It had not come into his mind to take it 
 off. But she was not frightened. She knew his 
 arms, she heard his voice, she sank fainting upon 
 his shoulder. 
 
 Once more it was John Hull speaking in Eng- 
 lish who brought the lovers to realisation. His 
 strong and anxious voice was seconded by the Span- 
 ish of Alonso. 
 
 " Quick ! quick ! " both the men said. " All hath 
 gone well. We have a start of many hours, but 
 we must be gone from here at once." 
 
 Johnnie released Elizabeth from his arms, and 
 then he also doffed the terror-inspiring costume 
 which he wore. 
 
 " Sweetheart," he said, " go you with John Hull 
 and this Alonso into the room beyond, where they
 
 "TENDIMUS IN LATIUM " 321 
 
 will give you robes to wear. I will join you in less 
 than a minute." 
 
 They passed away with quick, frightened foot- 
 steps. 
 
 But as for Commendone, he went to the centre 
 of the alcove, and knelt down just below the long 
 black table. 
 
 The three bodies of the men they had slain he 
 could not see. He could only see the black form of 
 the tablecloth, and above it the great white 
 Crucifix. 
 
 He prayed that nothing he had done upon this 
 night should stain his soul, that Jesus as indeed 
 he believed had been looking on him and all that 
 he did, with help and favour. 
 
 And once more he renewed his vow to live for 
 Jesus and for the girl he loved. 
 
 Crossing himself, he rose, and clapped his hands 
 to his right side. Once more he found he was 
 without a sword. He bowed again to the cross. 
 " It will come back to me," he said, in a quiet 
 voice. 
 
 He turned to go, he had no concern with those 
 who lay dead above him; but as he went towards 
 the door leading to the place of the torturers, his 
 eye fell upon the oak stool in the middle of the 
 room the oak chair by which the brazier still 
 glowed, and in which a silent, doll-like figure was 
 bound. 
 
 He stepped up to the chair, and immediately he 
 saw that Don Luis was dead.
 
 322 HOUSE OF TORMENT 
 
 The shock had killed him. He lay back there 
 with patches of grey marked in his hair, as if 
 fingers had been placed upon it a young face, now 
 prematurely old, and writhed into horror, but with 
 a little quiet smile of satisfaction upon it after 
 all. 
 
 And so they sailed away to the Court of Rome, 
 to take a high part in what went forward in the 
 palace of the Vatican. They were to be fused into 
 that wonderful revival of Learning and the Arts 
 known as the Renaissance. 
 
 God willing, and still seeing fit to give strength 
 to the hand and mind of the present chronicler, 
 what they did in Rome, all that befell them there, 
 and of Johnnie's friendship and adventures with 
 Messer Benvenuto Cellini will be duly set out in 
 another volume during the year of Grace to come. 
 
 Et veniam pro laude peto: laudatus abunde 
 
 Non fastiditus si tibi, lector, ero. 
 
 FINIS
 
 A 000177909 9