“Now His ways be praised!” intoned the newcomer, uprolling his eyes. “He shall be pleased to take the crafty in their own net, yet set the feet of the righteous upon paths of godliness and peace.” Mr. Salvation Gaines hurried to the middle of the room. There he stopped, peering at each of the others in turn. “Think not that He is mocked!” the newcomer said. “As hell and Rome contrive snares for the unwary, so the Lord in His own time shall circumvent the one and chastise the other for their souls’ good. Do I address Mr. Bygones Abraham?” “You do.” “The man Bygones Abraham, hanger-on at Whitehall? Of no known occupation, yet in receipt of a certain income from the Privy Purse itself? Are these things true?” “They’re true and I can’t deny ’em, though they might be put with more civility.” “Now what have I to do with civility?” snapped Salvation Gaines. There were several contradictions here. Though his phrasing was the usual cant of the old-line Roundhead, Independent or perhaps Fifth-Monarchy man, he had none of that through-the-nose twang by which “Lord”
