Two months later found them in London, the guests once more of the Lollard trader, Philip Naseby. Before the winter came they found another home on the Yorkshire coast. There dwelt Humphrey Singleton, a man who had lost friends, fortune, and home because of his faith. He had seen his wife and children turned from their burning cottage one bitterly cold winter night by the soldiers of Arundel, and now he was alone in the world, dwelling in a place, half hut, half cave, near the summit of the Yorkshire cliffs. There the boys found him, sitting at the door of his hermitage in the autumn twilight, feeding a lamb with grass and leaves. He gladly received his guests; and there, in that lonely place, they hoped to be permitted to remain till they had finished their studies. As it had been before, Hubert staid quietly at home, studying, while Geoffrey oftener pursued a more active life, gathering sea-birds’ eggs among the cliffs, or catching fish in a little boat far out in the bay. One evening there came a messenger to them. He bore the Lollard password, and so was eagerly received. When he had refreshed himself, they all gathered around the fire to hear what news he might bring. They had heard already of Arundel’s awful end; how, when he was sitting at a feast with his friends about him he had been struck by the hand of death. Not a moment had been given to his wretched soul to prepare itself to meet its Judge. Not a word had his palsied tongue been able to utter; only the writhing features showed his agony. Now, to their grief, they learned that his successor, Chichely, was following in his footsteps. The search after heretics was even more rigorous than before. "Have you heard aught of what has befallen Forest Tower and its noble Lord?" said the stranger. Geoffrey started to his feet. "Nay, we have not heard. Speak out, man, and tell me of my father." "Your father is safe, master Geoffrey," said the man, rising and bowing respectfully to the boy. "I knew you not at first. Sir John is safe, and in Wales, by the Lord’s mercy; but the archers pressed him sore, and thirsted like wild beasts for his blood. Blessed be the Lord that delivered him from the flame, and gave him wings to his feet." "And the Tower?" said Geoffrey, breathlessly. "There is no such place; they have not left one stone on another; I saw it myself." Geoffrey groaned aloud, then, raising himself to his full height, he lifted his clenched hand to heaven and cried: "It is mine! It is mine! Mine by the same right that king Harry holds his throne! They shall give it back, stone for stone, or this right hand shall lay them as low as its ashes are. I will----" Here his hand was grasped from behind, and his master’s voice said, half sternly, half sorrowfully: "Boy! art thou to fight for an earthly habitation, or a heavenly? Hast thou renounced all these for Jesus’ sake, and art so ready to snatch at them again?"