“Yes, Sir, about £50 in gold that is sewn up in one of Emlyn’s robes.”
“Ah! A sufficient sum. Too much indeed to be risked upon your persons in these rough times. You will let me take charge of half of it for you?”
“With pleasure, Sir, trusting you as I do. Keep to your bargain and I will keep to mine.”
“Good. When Thomas Legh is fairly dealt with, Thomas Legh deals fairly, no man can say otherwise. This afternoon I will bring the deed, and you’ll give me that £25 in charge.”
Then, followed by Cicely, he returned to where the Prioress sat, and said—
“Mother Matilda, for so I understand you are called in religion, the Lady Harflete has been pleading with me for you, and because you have dealt so well by her I have promised in the King’s name that you and your nuns shall live on here undisturbed for one year from this day, after which you must yield up peaceable possession to his Majesty, whom I will beg that you shall be pensioned.”
“I thank you, Sir,” the Prioress answered. “When one is old a year of grace is much, and in a year many things may happen—for instance, my death.”
“Thank me not—a plain man who but follows after justice and duty. The documents for your signature shall be ready this afternoon, and by the way, the Lady Harflete and her servant, also that stout, shrewd fellow, Thomas Bolle, ride with me to London to-morrow. She will explain all. At three of the clock I wait upon you.”
The Visitor and his secretaries bustled out of the room as pompously as they had entered, and when they had gone Cicely explained to Mother Matilda and Emlyn what had passed.
“I think that you have done wisely,” said the Prioress, when she had listened. “That man is a shark, but better give him your little finger than your whole body. Certainly, you have bargained well for us, for what may not happen in a year? Also, dear Cicely, you will be safer in London than at Blossholme, since with the great sum of £300 to gain that Commissioner will watch you like the apple of his eye and push your cause.”