He felt that in argument he was no match for the cardinal, even had disputation with so eminent and august a personage been possible.

He felt that somewhere there was an answer to this irrefragable argument, but for the moment he could not find it; he stood tongue tied, silent.
The cardinal looked at him with his slight, peculiar smile, and then turned once again to Arthur.
"And now for your petition.

If it is for favour to be shown to your ardent young friend, after the statement he desired to make to me, with greater courage than discretion (for which, however, I like him none the less), then it is granted already." "It is not for him," answered Arthur; "we have both come hither on the same errand.

But we do desire your Eminence's good offices for one who was in somewhat similar case with Dalaber.

We have come to plead for the life and liberty of John Clarke, canon of your own beauteous and godly college in Oxford, who, with two other companions, one of them a canon and the other a singing man of that foundation, is lying near to death in a foul prison, and will without doubt perish miserably there, if release doth not speedily come." The cardinal's steel-blue eyes took a new expression, and one which Arthur could in no wise interpret.
"Like to die!" He spoke somewhat more abruptly than had hitherto been the case.