he better; but it
is too late for that now. Now the matter must all come out; and Sir
Edmund hath said sufficient to shew us that it will largely turn upon a
consult that our Fathers held here in London, last April, at the White
Horse Tavern; for Oates hath mingled truth and falsehood in a very
ingenious fashion. He was at St. Omer's, you know, as a student; and was
expelled for an unspeakable crime, as he was expelled from our other
college at Valladolid also, for the same cause: so he knows a good deal
of our ways. He feigns, too, to be a Doctor of Divinity in Salamanca
University; but that is another of his lies, as I know for a truth. What
we wish to know, however, is how he knows so much of our movements
during these last months; for not one of us has seen him. You have been
to and fro to our lodgings a great deal, Mr. Mallock. Have you ever
seen, hanging about the streets outside any of them, a fellow with a
deformed kind of face--so that his mouth--"

And at that I broke in: for I had never forgotten the man's face,
against whom I had knocked one night in Drury Lane.

"I have seen the very man," I cried. "He is of middle stature; with a
little forehead and nose and a great chin."

"That is the man," said Mr. Whitbread. "When did you see him?"

I told them that it was on the night that I found Mrs. Ireland and her
daughter come from the play.

"He was standing in the mouth of the passage opposite," I said, "and
watched me as I went in."

"He will have been watching many nights, I think," said Mr. Whitbread,
"here, and in Duke Street, and at my own lodgings too."

I asked what he would do that for, if he had his tale already.

"That he may have more truth to stir up with his lies," said Mr.
Whitbread. "He will say who he has seen go in and out; and we shall not
be able to deny it."

He said this very quietly, without any sign of perturbation; and Mr.
Ireland was the same. They seemed a little thoughtful only.

"But no harm can come to you," I cried. "His Majesty hath promised it."

"Yes: His Majesty hath promised it," said Mr. Whitbread in such a manner
that my heart turned cold; but I said no more on the point.

"Now, Mr. Mallock," said the priest, "we must consider what is best to
be done. When the case comes on, as it surely will, the question for us
is what you must do. I doubt not that you could give evidence that you
have found us harmless folk"--(he smiled as he said this)--"but I do not
know t