“John Belton,” said the lad in a tremulous voice.
“And you are a little papist?” asked the agent.
“No sir; a Protestant.”
“Then how is it that you go on errands for papists?”
“I am a servant, sir,” said the boy imploringly.
Lackington turned the papers over for a moment or two.
“Now you know,” he began again in a threatening voice, “that this gentleman has power to put you on the rack; you know what that is?”
The boy nodded in mute white-faced terror.
“Well, now, he will hear all you say; and will know whether you say the truth or not. Now tell me if you still hold to what you said yesterday.”
And then Lackington with the aid of the papers ran quickly over the story that Sir Francis had related. “Now do you mean to tell me, John Belton,” he added, “that you, a Protestant, and a lad of twelve, are employed on this work by papists, to gather them for mass?”