By reason of so many quips and dry bobs the Apostles were in a few weeks brought to a misery and humiliation befitting their state of sin. They scarcely dared poke their noses from their lattices into the street but folk would begin to cry out upon them and to wonder loudly that they were still alive. None of them dared go to Church; Master Mark, taking his courage in both hands, set out one Holy Day, but when he came in sight of the church porch, and caught sight of the gap in the upper projection thereof, whence Master Matthew’s stone had fallen, his heart failed him and he turned back, and that although many good men standing within the porch, encouraged him to enter, calling to him that it were better to be damned as a usurer than as a heretic. This saying, getting passed from mouth to mouth, gave new matter to the people, who now stood about in their idle moments under the Apostles’ houses in the corner of the Market Place, and cried to each other that the Abbot had written a letter to the Archdeacon of the Diocese that there were eleven men in the town, who came to none of the Divine Services, and were esteemed either heretics or Jews, and that the Archdeacon had sent word in reply that he would shortly come with his clerks and purge the town of heresy as though with a raging fire, and further inquiring whether there were any known and notorious practisers of usury in the Borough. At which words the eleven Apostles, who stood each one listening beside his lattice, quaked with dread and crept away silently to the back of the house, being too afeared to listen to any more of such talk. IV One night, about an hour after sundown, William returned from dancing on the green. It had turned in chill with a heavy dew falling, so he sat awhile before the fire to warm himself before going to his bed. As he sat humming to himself a jolly tune he had gotten from Nick the Piper, there came a sort of scratching or rustling at the door. ‘Beshrew me,’ he said half aloud, ‘but rats are as plentiful as blackberries in this house,’ and he hurled a log at the place whence the sound came. But instead of the noise ceasing, it came again a little louder than before, and Will then understood that it was some one fumbling at the latch outside. ‘In God’s name,’ he cried lustily, ‘come in, thou old bat.’ With that the latch was hesitatingly lifted and Master Mark cautiously poked his red pate inside and peered suspiciously around. ‘What,’ cried Will, ‘Master Mark? Mine ancient friend of the patched cloak, mine honest acquaintance the Prince of the Jews? Enter, my worthy usurer, out of the night dew and warm thy cold heart against the fire.’ ‘For the love of Mary, good Master Will, speak more quietly,’ stuttered Master Mark, half dead with fear. ‘If these town devils hear thee, they will slay me.’ ‘Oh, oh,’ thought Will. ‘“Good Master Will,” forsooth. Sits the wind in that quarter i’ faith?’