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Benson, Robert Hugh, 1871-1914

"Come Rack! Come Rope!"

Bassett spat on the floor as he named him), Topcliffe, "the devil
possessed by worse devils," was sent down to take charge of the matter.
Marjorie listened carefully.
"You have no fear for yourself, sir?" she asked presently, as the man
sat back in his chair.
Mr. Bassett smiled broadly, showing his strong white teeth between the
iron-grey hair that fringed his lips.
"No; I have no fear," he said. "I have a score of my men quartered in
the town."
"And the trial? When will that--"
"The trial! Why, I shall praise God if the trial falls this year. They
will harry him before magistrates, no doubt; and they will squeeze him
in private. But the trial!... Why, they have not a word of treason
against him; and that is what they are after, no doubt."
"Treason?"
"Why, surely. That is what they seek to fasten upon us all. It would not
sound well that Christian should shed Christian's blood for
Christianity; but that her Grace should sorrowfully arraign her subjects
whom she loves and cossets so much, for treason--Why, that is as sound a
cause as any in the law-books!"
He smiled in a manner that was almost a snarl, and his eyes grew narrow
with ironic merriment.
"And Mr. Thomas--" began Marjorie hesitatingly.
He whisked his glance on her like lightning.
"Mr. Thomas will laugh at them all," he cried. "He is as staunch as any
of his blood. I know he has been careful of late; but, then, you must
remember how all the estates hang on him.


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