November of last year--do you
deny that, sir?"

"You ask too much," said Anthony, smiling again; "they may have been
there for aught I know, for I certainly did not see them elsewhere at the
time you mention."

Wade frowned, but the one at the end laughed loud.

"He has you there, Wade," he said.

"This is foolery," said the Secretary. "Well, these two, Father Edward
Oldcorne and Father Holtby were in Lancashire in November; and you, Mr.
Norris, spoke with them then. We wish to know where they are now, and you
must tell us."

"You have yet to prove that I spoke with them," said Anthony, for the
trap was too transparent.

"But we know that."

"That may or may not be; but it is for you to prove it."

"Nay, for you to tell us."

"For you to prove it."

Wade lost his temper.

"Well, then," he cried, "take this paper and see which of us is in the
right."

Anthony rose again, wondering what the paper could be, and came towards
the table. He saw it bore a name at the end, and as he advanced saw that
it had an official appearance. Wade still held it; but Anthony took it in
his hand too to steady it, and began to read; but as he read a mist rose
before his eyes, and the paper shook violently. It was a warrant to put
him to the torture.

Wade laughed a little.

"Why, see, Mr. Norris, how you tremble at the warrant; what will it be
when you----"

But a voice murmured "Shame!" and he stopped and stared.

Anthony passed his hand over his eyes and went back to his chair and sat
down; he saw his knees trembling as he sat, and hated himself for it; but
he cried bravely:

"The flesh is weak, but, please God, the spirit is willing."

"Well, then," said Wade again, "must we execute this warrant, or will you
tell us what we would know?"

"You must do what God permits," said Anthony.

Wade sat down, throwing the warrant on the table, and began to talk in a
low voice to those who sat next him. Anthony fixed his eyes on the
ground, and did his utmost to keep his thoughts steady.

Now he realised where he was, and what it all meant. The little door to
the left, behind him, that he had noticed as he came in, was the door of
which he had heard other Catholics speak, that led down to the great
crypt, where so many before him had screamed and fainted and called on
God, from the rack that stood at the foot of the stairs, or from the
pillar with the fixed ring at its summit.

He had faced all this in his mind again an