Suddenly he was aware that in a dark doorway close at hand a cowled figure was standing. Then the figure moved, and Hugh saw the glancing blade of a long, murderous stiletto flash out. It was plunged up to the hilt in the body of a citizen hurrying by towards Carfax, and the hapless man fell dead at Hugh's feet without so much as a groan. The young man stood stupified with astonishment and horror; then in a moment he realized the peril of his own position. "Seize him! seize him!" yelled a dozen furious voices; "he has slain one of our townsmen! Seize the murderer! Do to him as he hath done! Take him red-handed in the act, and we will see that justice is done upon him!" "My good friends," said Hugh, looking at the angry faces surrounding him, and striving to keep his head in face of this very real peril, "I am innocent of the death of this unhappy man. I do not even know who he is. The murderer was a man disguised in the habit of a monk, loitering in yon doorway. Search, and you will find him yet, and I can testify to the blow he struck!" Angry and excited, the crowd would scarce hear him. No such figure as he described was to be found. No one had seen a monk in the street, nor could Hugh declare in what direction he had fled after committing the crime, so bewildered had he been by the suddenness of the deed, and by its tragic sequel. His words were received with hisses of scornful discredit; the angry townsmen, some of whom were neighbours to the murdered man, clamoured more and more fiercely for the blood of the destroyer. Overhead the bell of St. Martin's swung in the air, increasing the excitement with every clang. The street was full of wrathful burghers; yells, curses, threats, rent the air. Hugh believed that in another moment the crowd would fall upon him and tear him in pieces, and had almost given himself over as lost, when a loud voice dominated the others in the throng, and yelled out lustily,-- "Take him to the Bocardo prison; lock him up there for the night, and then let the Mayor and the Chancellor deal with him. They will avenge us of the death of our neighbour. Let us not fall upon him ourselves, or we shall, perchance, have our liberties again curtailed." Many grumbled, and showed a disposition to resist this counsel, crying out that it were better to deal with the miscreant then and there, for that clerks and bachelors were always let off far too easily by the authorities. But the older men of the city knew well that the slaying of a clerk was regarded with severity by those in authority, and had sometimes been punished by the King himself in the withdrawal of certain liberties and privileges from the city charter. If a clerk fell in open fight, that was one thing; but for the citizens deliberately to doom him to death, and to dispatch him with their own hands without form of trial, was another; and it was this sort of summary justice which brought the citizens into trouble.