The Archbishop who had been looking with smiling attention from one to the other, now himself broke in.
“I am glad you think that, sir. I think so myself. Though it cannot be proved as you say, it is far best that His Grace should know all. Indeed I think I should have told him in any case.”
“Then, my Lord, if you think well,” went on Mr. Herries, “you might lay before his Grace that this is a free and open confession. Mr. Torridon did burn papers, and important ones; but they would not have served anything. Master Cromwell was cast without them.”
“But Mr. Torridon did not know that?” questioned the Archbishop blandly.
“Yes, my Lord,” cried Sir James, “he must have known—that my Lord Cromwell—”
The Archbishop lifted his hand delicately.
“Master Cromwell,” he corrected.
“Master Cromwell,” went on the old man, “he must have known that Mr. Cromwell had others, more important, that would be certainly found and used against him.”
“Then why did he burn them? You understand, sir, that I only wish to know what I have to say to his Grace.”
“He burned them, my Lord, because he could not bear that his hand should be lifted against his master. Surely that is but loyal and good!”