Lackington, sometime servant to Sir Nicholas Maxwell, had entered Sir Francis’ service instead, at the same time that he had exchanged the Catholic for the Protestant religion; and he was now one of his most trusted agents. But he had been in so many matters connected with recusancy, that a large number of the papists in London were beginning to know him by sight; and the affairs were becoming more and more scarce in which he could be employed among Catholics with any hope of success. It was his custom to call morning by morning at Sir Francis’ office and receive his instructions; and just now he had returned from business in the country. Presently he entered, closing the door behind him, and bowed profoundly to his master.
“I have a matter on hand, Lackington,” said Sir Francis, without looking at him, and without any salutation beyond a glance and a nod as he entered,—“a matter which I have not leisure to look into, as it is not, I think, anything more than mere religion; but which might, I think, repay you for your trouble, if you can manage it in any way. But it is a troublesome business. These are the facts.
“No. 3 Newman’s Court, in the City, has been a suspected house for some while. I have had it watched, and there is no doubt that the papists use it. I thought at first that the Scots were mixed up with it; but that is not so. Yesterday, a boy of twelve years old, left the house in the afternoon, and was followed to a number of houses, of which I will give you the list presently; and was finally arrested in Paul’s Churchyard and brought here. I frightened him with talk of the rack; and I think I have the truth out of him now; I have tested him in the usual ways—and all that I can find is that the house is used for mass now and then; and that he was going to the papists’ houses yesterday to bid them come for next Sunday morning. But he was stopped too soon: he had not yet told the priest to come. Now unless the priest is told to-night by one whom he trusts, there will be no mass on Sunday, and the nest of papists will escape us. It is of no use to send the boy; as he will betray all by his behaviour, even if we frighten him into saying what we wish to the priest. I suppose it is of no use your going to the priest and feigning to be a Catholic messenger; and I cannot at this moment see what is to be done. If there were anything beyond mere religion in this, I would spare no pains to hunt them out; but it is not worth my while. Yet there is the reward; and if you think that you can do anything, you can have it for your pains. I can spare you till Monday, and of course you shall have what men you will to surround the house and take them at mass, if you can but get the priest there.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Lackington deferentially. “Have I your honour’s leave to see the boy in your presence?”
Walsingham struck the bell again.
“Bring the lad that is locked in the steward’s parlour,” he said, when the servant appeared.—“Sit down, Lackington, and examine him when he comes.”
And Sir Francis took down some papers from a pigeon-hole, sorted out one or two, and saying, “Here are his statements,” handed them to the agent; who began to glance through them at once. Walsingham then turned to his table again and began to go on with his letters.
In a moment or two the door opened, and a little lad of twelve years old, came in, followed by the servant.
“That will do,” said Walsingham, without looking up; “You can leave him here,” and the servant went out. The boy stood back against the wall by the door, his face was white and his eyes full of horror, and he looked in a dazed way at the two men.
“What is your name, boy?” began Lackington in a sharp, judicial tone.