"No," said I, "but I bear a message to one there, Master Penry by name." "How comes it," demanded the porter, who, by the tone of him, might have been the chancellor himself, "that you wear that gown, sirrah?" "That is my business," said I, seeing it was no profit to talk civilly to him, "and if you want not to see your neck wrung, give over questions, and tell me where is Saint Alban Hall." He grew red in the face as I gripped his arm, which he could by no means get free till I let him. "This is Saint Alban Hall," said he, "and Master Penry lives over my lodging." Then I thought it better to be civil to the fellow, as he guessed I had no business there in a college gown. So I gave him a groat, and bad him take me up forthwith. Master Penry was a lean, wrathful-visaged Welshman, with deep grey eyes, and a large forehead, and a mass of straight black hair down his neck. As I entered his room, which was disordered and dirty, he was pacing to and fro, talking or praying aloud in his native tongue. He let me stand there a minute or two, amazed at his jargon, and scarcely knowing whether I had lit upon a sane man or not. Then he stopped suddenly in front of me and scanned me. "Well?" said he, in good English. "Are you Master Penry?" I asked. "I am. You have a message for me?" "I have; from Master Walgrave. Here it is," said I, putting the letter into his hand. He tore it open and read it eagerly, and, as he did so, his face relaxed into a grim smile. "That is well, so far," said he. Then, looking hard at me, he added, "Have you ridden from London in that disguise?" "No," said I, "this gown was lent me by a friend to protect me against annoyance from the wild men of the town." His face suddenly turned pale and passionate. "Then where is the cloak your master speaks of in this letter?" "The cloak!" I knew from the very first there would be trouble about that, and I was glad now I had left it behind in the safe keeping of my comrade at the inn. "What is my cloak to you?" said I, not relishing the tone of his voice, "I have given it away to my friend." "Fool and jackass!" said he, gnashing his teeth, "do you know you have ruined me and your master by this?" "No, I do not," said I, "and as for the foul names you call me, take them back on the instant, or I swear I will ram them down your mouth!" He took no notice whatever of my wrath, but went on, breaking in on his speech every now and then with Welsh words which I took to be curses. "You must get it back at any price," said he. "Lose not a moment! Where is this friend? Who is he? If he resist you, you must slay him, so as you get it back. If it fall into the hands of an enemy, you and I, ay and your master, and all that belongs to you will perish. Ah, the folly of the man to trust such a missive to this thick-headed blunderer! What time lost, what labour wasted, what peril run, what ruin on our holy cause!"