Three days afterwards, Derrick Carver, upon whom the Cardinal’s goodness had operated like a sovereign cordial, giving him new life and energy, announced that he was strong enough to avail himself of the permission he had received, and, accordingly, the door of his cell was unlocked by Mallet, who accompanied him to the palace gates, and there let him go, never expecting, as he frankly avowed, to behold him again.
“It may be well to follow him and see what he is about,” observed Rodomont, who was standing by.
“Nay, his Eminence has strictly forbidden that,” said Mallet. “The man is to be left to his own devices. If he come back, I shall esteem him a greater fool than heretic.”
“Tut, he will return,” said Rodomont. “His Eminence understands him better than you do.”
“Well, we shall see,” rejoined the other.
On that very day, it chanced that Bishop Bonner came to Lambeth Palace, and proceeding straightway to the Lollards’ Tower, inquired for the prisoner. On learning that he had been allowed to go forth, he flew into a violent passion, and declared he would have the keeper punished for his gross breach of duty. Mallet excused himself, and referred the infuriated bishop to the Cardinal, but Bonner could not obtain an audience till his rage had had time to subside. Pole listened to his complaints and then replied, calmly,—
“It is true, I have let the man go on his promise to return in the evening.”
“But what is the promise of such a false knave worth?” cried Bonner, contemptuously. “He will infallibly break it.”
“I do not think so,” rejoined the Cardinal. “But tarry with me till eventide, and you will see.”