“_Eripe me, Domine!_” cried the priest, also crossing himself. “Shall we heed this corrupt body in the service of Holy Church? Would the gibbet were now”---- Here a loud knock was inflicted on the door. “Hush!” whispered Craftall, in a trembling voice. The priest, whose countenance had just before beamed with the loftiest resolution, crouched with terror. “’Tis the persecutor!” he faltered. “Hie thee within, then, holy father!” stammered Craftall, beseechingly. Whether it was that his hour had not yet come, or that the persecutor, however contemptible in the distance, appeared formidable at close quarters, the priest readily embraced this advice, and passed through the inner door to another chamber. When he had thus disappeared, Craftall, with more composure of manner, proceeded to the outer door, and there demanded who was without. “The servants of the Lord,” answered a harsh voice. This answer, though so indefinite, greatly disturbed Craftall, and confirmed him in the impression he had conceived, that the persons calling themselves the servants of the Lord were what he considered the Lord’s enemies, and, in short, were no other than the persecutors. But, whatever they might be, one thing he was assured of, and that was, that it would be highly injudicious to give them any offence; and, consequently, he determined to admit them on the instant. “I am not worthy that ye should come under my roof,” he cried; “yet a good man, one worthy Master Chatter, cometh hither oft, and telleth me glad tidings of Israel.” With these conciliatory words, he drew open the door, when, to his amazement, the servants of the Lord who entered were, not the persons whom he had expected, but the servants of his partner Shedlock. Abigail and Zedekiah, without pausing at the door, pushed past him to the light, and there turned to salute him. Before they could carry their purpose into effect, however, Craftall, recovering from his surprise, ventured to inquire their business. “What seek ye here?” he demanded. “They be both departed,” answered Abigail. “The crowner’s quest sat this morning, and, by their law, _he’s a fellow at sea_.” “The burying, forsooth, will be at night,” observed Zedekiah, turning up the whites of his eyes. “Verily, a goodly sight!” “Whom speak ye of, ye fools?” cried Craftall, enraged. There lay the mystery. They were, indeed, willing to disclose the items thereof, but who those items referred to was not to be elicited so easily. Craftall, however, seeing that something singular had happened, persevered in his inquiries; and, in the end, learned from Abigail, who was the more communicative of the two, that both Dame Shedlock and her husband had ceased to exist.