“I had but the one, my lord,” he said.
The officers had entered at Cromwell’s orders.
“If you had but one, you did a strange thing to give it to me,” said my lord privy seal; then to the captain of the watch, “Ludlow, remove Lord Raby under strong guard to the Tower to await his examination.”
Taken by surprise at the entire change in Cromwell’s manner, Simon was about to say that the papers were from Carew, when a second thought made him hesitate. If Sir William’s name was not upon them it would be strange indeed, and he did not wish to bring him under greater displeasure.
“My lord,” he cried, “I pray you to remember that I was but the bearer of those papers; I am ignorant of their purport.”
Cromwell’s face was both incredulous and unrelenting.
“You are not the man to bear such papers ignorantly, Raby,” he said harshly; “who gave them to you?”
Simon started; then Sir William’s name did not appear. A horrible doubt assailed him, but he was a man of stubborn loyalty to his friends. He closed his lips; if his silence could shelter Carew it was well, especially since he was groping in the dark.
Cromwell, who had waited one impatient moment for his answer, smiled grimly. He had seen too many men turn traitors to feel amazement at the aspect of one.
“You are tongue-tied,” he said sternly, “It may be we must enforce the matter from you,” he added, touching the papers; “never saw I a greater batch of treason in so little space.”