"Pardon!" repeated Cromwell, "Pardon!—on what grounds?"
"Those of mercy—upon which your Highness has pardoned many; and, please your Highness, if I may make bold to say so, this same man has some reason, however small, to offer. The Jewess Zillah——"
"Ah! what of her?"
"Is in his keeping, and a certain preacher also—a worthy, simple, yet, withal, a keen man, whom Sir Willmott Burrell, as I understand, entrapped and shut up, with famine as his only associate, because he had become possessed of some papers proving Sir Willmott's marriage with the Jewish lady."
"And Dalton——"
"Saved this Fleetword!"
"Ah, Fleetword!" interrupted Cromwell, "I have heard of his disappearance—and he is safe?"
"Perfectly."
"I bless the Lord for his unravelling! But why comes not this man forth from his den? Methinks, if he have rendered such service to the Jew, who is our friend, he has some claim to our consideration, and might hope—perhaps, hope for pardon. But, if I judge rightly, he expected more than pardon,—pardon for his ship also, and farther grace towards himself:—ran it not thus?"
"Please your Highness, yes. The man loves his ship, which is but natural; and then his men——"