I believe little of this tale, though doubtless by bribes and other means you have done your best to harm me behind my back up yonder in London.

Well, to-morrow at the dawn, come fair weather or come foul, I ride through the snows to London, where I too have friends, and we will see, we will see.

You are a clever man, Abbot Maldon, and I know that you need money, or its worth, to pay your men-at-arms and satisfy the great costs at which you live--and there are our famous jewels--yes, yes, the old Crusader jewels.

Therefore you have sought to rob me, whom you ever hated, and perchance Cromwell has listened to your tale.

Perchance, fool priest," he added slowly, "he had it in his mind to fat this Church goose of yours with my meal before he wrings its neck and cooks it." At these words the Abbot started for the first time, and even the two impassive chaplains glanced at each other.
"Ah! does that touch you ?" asked Sir John Foterell.