"I have seen his face.

Who are you ?" "This is Mr.Ralph Torridon," said Cromwell; "a very useful friend to me, your Grace." "The Torridons of Overfield ?" questioned Henry once more, who never forgot a face or a name.
"Yes, your Grace," said Cromwell.
"You are tall enough, sir," said the King, running his narrow eyes up and down Ralph's figure;--"a strong friend." "I hope so, your Grace," said Ralph.
The King again looked at him, and Ralph dropped his eyes in the glare of that mighty personality.

Then Henry abruptly thrust out his hand to be kissed, and as Ralph bent over it he was aware of the thick straight fingers, the creased wrist, and the growth of hair on the back of the hand.
* * * * * Ralph was astonished, and a little ashamed at his own excitement as he passed down the stairs again.

It was so little that had happened; his own part had been so insignificant; and yet he was tingling from head to foot.

He felt he knew now a little better how it was that the King's will, however outrageous in its purposes, was done so quickly.