“Because, Excellency, you did not give the signal.”
“If I had, what then?”
“He was a dead man before he could move an arm, or your finger was on the table again.”
“You have done well. That is what I like; exact obedience, and no panic. Keep your lips closed. Go and tell your colonel to come here.”
The man withdrew, and Cromwell resumed his walk, making no comment on the brief dialogue. William blew a long whistle, then he laughed a little.
When the colonel came in, Cromwell turned to him and said: “Is that malignant brawler, chaplain to Lord Rudby, in the cells yet?”
“Yes, Excellency.”
“Tell your men to clear out the chapel at once and light it. There are some stores in it, I think, and bring the reverend greybeard to me.”
In a few moments the colonel returned, accompanied by an aged clergyman, who, despite his haggard and careworn look and bent shoulders, cast a glance of hatred at the General, which seemed to entitle him to the epithet Cromwell had bestowed upon him. To this silent defiance Cromwell paid no attention, but said to him:
“Sir, you may earn your liberty to-night by marrying two young people in the chapel.”