stranger point so
confidently to the hiding-hole, where indeed the warder used to sit
sometimes behind a brick partition, to listen to the talk of the
prisoners; and showed his surprise.

"Ah, Mr. Norris," the other said, "we Papists are bound to be well
informed; or else where were our lives? But come, sir, let us sit down."

Anthony apologised for interrupting him at his supper, and offered to
come again, but Mr. Buxton begged him not to leave, as he had nearly
finished. So Anthony sat down, and observed the prison and the prisoner.
It was fairly well provided with necessaries: a good straw bed lay in one
corner on trestles; and washing utensils stood at the further wall; and
there was an oil lamp that hung high up from an iron pin. The prisoner's
luggage lay still half unpacked on the floor, and a row of pegs held a
hat and a cloak. Mr. Buxton himself was a dark-haired man with a short
beard and merry bright eyes; and was dressed soberly as a gentleman; and
behaved himself with courtesy and assurance. But it was a queer place
with this flickering lamp, thought Anthony, for a gentleman to be eating
his supper in. When Mr. Buxton had finished his dish of roach and a
tankard of ale, he looked up at Anthony, smiling.

"My lord knows the ways of Catholics, then," he said, pointing to the
bones on his plate.

Anthony explained that the Protestants observed the Friday abstinence,
too.

"Ah yes," said the other, "I was forgetting the Queen's late injunctions.
Let us see; how did it run? 'The same is not required for any liking of
Papish Superstitions or Ceremonies (is it?) hitherto used, which utterly
are to be detested of all Christian folk'; (no, the last word or two is a
gloss), 'but only to maintain the mariners in this land, and to set men
a-fishing.' That is the sense of it, is it not, sir? You fast, that is,
not for heavenly reasons, which were a foolish and Papish thing to do;
but for earthly reasons, which is a reasonable and Protestant thing to
do."

Anthony might have taken this assault a little amiss, if he had not seen
a laughing light in his companion's eyes; and remembered, too, that
imprisonment is apt to breed a little bitterness. So be smiled back at
him. Then soon they fell to talking of Lady Maxwell and Great Keynes,
where it seemed that Mr. Buxton had stayed more than once.

"I knew Sir Nicholas well," he said, "God rest his soul. It seems to me
he is one of those whose life continually gave the