CHAPTER X.
THE ANONYMOUS LETTER.
Although the month was June and the evening warm, Master Blanchminster sat huddled in his armchair before a bright fire.
A table stood at his elbow, with some books upon it, his untasted glass of wine, and half a dozen letters--his evening's post.
But the Master leaned forward, spreading his delicate fingers to the warmth and, between them, gazing into the core of the blaze.
The butler ushered in Brother Copas and withdrew, after a glance at the lights.

Two wax candles burned upon the writing-table in the oriel, and on the side-table an electric lamp shaded with green silk faintly silhouetted the Master's features.

Brother Copas, standing a little within the doorway, remarked to himself that the old gentleman had aged of late.
"Ah, Brother Copas?
Yes, I sent for you," said the Master, rousing himself as if from a brown study.

"Be seated, please." He pointed to a chair on the opposite side of the hearth; and Brother Copas, seating himself with a bow, spread the worn skirt of his Beauchamp robe, and arranged its folds over his knees.

The firelight sparkled upon the Beauchamp rose on his breast, and seemed to hold the Master's eye as he looked up after a pause.
"You guess, no doubt, why I sent for you ?" Brother Copas inclined his head.
"It concerns the Petition which Brother Warboise presented to the Bishop last Monday.