"In the first place, read that, my lord," said Sir Payan, putting in his hand one out of a bundle of papers that he had brought with him. "That is the first step."
"Why, what is this?" cried Wolsey. "This is but 'the deposition of Henry Wilson, of Pencriton, in the duchy of Cornwall, who maketh oath and saith, that the prisoner Osborne Maurice, alias Sir Osborne Maurice, is the man whom he saw at the head of the Cornish miners in insurrection, on the 3rd of January last, and who incited them, by cries and words, to burn and destroy all that came in their way, till they should have satisfaction in everything that they required; but for the further acts of the said Osborne Maurice, he, the deponent, begs leave to refer to his former depositions, taken before Sir John Balham, knight, of the city of Penzance, in Cornwall; only upon oath he declareth, that the said Osborne Maurice, now present, is the ringleader or conductor of the mob mentioned in his former deposition, in witness whereof----' Ha!" said Wolsey, thoughtfully; "there is one, I find, of this same name, Sir Osborne Maurice, who, during my absence, has crept into the king's favour. Surely it may be the same!"
"On my life, my lord, the very same!" replied Sir Payan. "'Twas but the morning before last, that, at the justs at Richmond, I saw him with our noble king, his chosen companion, with the Duke of Suffolk, to keep the barriers against all comers; and there he ruffled it amongst the best, swimming, as 'twere, on the top of the wave."
"Then will we lay this on his head," said Wolsey, placing his forefinger emphatically on the paper, "and that shall sink him. But how does this touch the Duke of Buckingham?"
"Your grace shall hear," replied Sir Payan. "This Wilson, who made the deposition you there hold, came to me one day in the last of March--you must know he is my bailiff--and told me a sad story of his woeful plight; how in a cottage hard by he had met the man whom he had seen burn down his father's house in Cornwall, and who was there employed in the same devilish attempt to instigate the peasants to revolt. Wilson, it seems, accused him; whereon, being a most powerful and atrocious traitor, he struck the bailiff to the ground, and left him for dead. This being sworn on oath before me, as a magistrate, I sent forth and had the villain arrested, after a most desperate struggle. With the intention of sending him to Cornwall, I had him committed to the strong room of the manor; but somehow, during the night, he contrived to escape through a window, and made his way to the court----"
"But still, Sir Payan," interrupted the cardinal, "this does not implicate the Duke of Buckingham, who, as I have good reason to believe, is but a scant lover of our royal king, and towards myself bears most inveterate malice. I have heard many a rumour of his plots and schemes. But it is proof, Sir Payan; it is proof that we must have."
"And proof your grace shall have," replied the knight, counting the hatred that Wolsey bore towards the duke as his own gain, and enjoying the inveteracy of his malice not only with the abstract satisfaction of fellow-feeling, but as a fisherman delights to see the voracious spring of the trout at the fly he casts before his snout. "Let your grace listen to me; for my story, though somewhat long, is nevertheless conclusive. This Osborne Maurice, in his escape, left behind him the leathern horsebags with which he rode when he was taken, and, in my capacity as magistrate, I made free to open them----"
"You did right, you did right!" cried Wolsey, almost forgetting his dignity in eagerness. "What did you find? Say, Sir Payan! What did you find?"
"I found several letters from his grace the Duke of Buckingham," answered Sir Payan, "being principally written to bring this Sir Osborne Maurice to the knowledge of persons about the court, recommending him as one that may be trusted. Your grace will mark those words, 'may be trusted.' But amongst the rest was one which shows for what he may be trusted. Behold it here, my lord! You know the duke's hand and style;" and he presented the letter to Wolsey.
The cardinal snatched it eagerly; but remembering himself, he turned more composedly to the address, and read, "'Sir John Morton.' Ah!" cried he. "So! an old Perkyn Warbeckist! the last I believe alive. But for the contents: 'Trusty and well-beloved friend! '--um--um--um--'everlasting friendship!--of course, one traitor loves another. But let us see. How! the daring villain! 'to inform you, that before another year arrive, my head shall be the highest in the realm, at least so promises Sir Osborne Maurice, whose promises, as you know, are not such as fail!' Ha, Sir Payan! ha! Did you read it? This is treason, is it not? By my life, the duke's own hand! But what says he farther? Ha! 'The butcher's cur Wolsey has long wanted the lash, and he shall have it soon.' See you how rank is his malice! We will read no farther. This condemns him; and as for Sir Osborne Maurice, to-night he shall have his lodging in the Tower."