‘Good Master Will,’ whined Master Mark, ‘we do indeed pray hourly and daily to the Blessed Virgin and all Saints to intercede for us, miserable sinners. But thou art a good, kindly man, and perchance in this case more powerful than they, and we would ask thee, we would entreat thee, to take down--of course for a payment--for a good substantial sum--to take down these carven figures, that we may worship in the Church again like good Christian men, as we did heretofore.’ ‘Holy Saints of God, and wouldst thou have the artist destroy his artistry, desecrate the Blessed Church and meddle with the wrath of God? Blessed Mary forbid.’ ‘Nay, nay, we would not have thee destroy thy work, which is indeed exceeding rare and cunning, but only to remove it from its present place, so that we might go to Mass in safety. Doubtless if thou take it down, thou couldst sell it again at great profit. Besides, good Master William, remember that it hath been defaced already with the fall of Master Matthew’s stone, and with each one of us that crosses the threshold of the porch, it will deface itself more, until it be entirely destroyed, and that with lamentable shedding of blood.’ ‘Of a surety, Master Mark, each stone will have its man.’ ‘Ah, Master William, have mercy upon us broken men. We will pay thee, I warrant thee, if thou wilt but remove them, and that right liberally.’ William lit a taper at the fire, and going to his workshop door, flung it open. He peered within, holding the taper high above his head so that the light fell on the shattered image of Master Matthew struggling in the hands of the demons. ‘’Tis piteously shattered,’ he thought, ‘I doubt beyond redemption. Lo, the old man is dead now and doubtless in Hell; I should be loath to set his figure up again thus. Yet without it my work is defaced, yea, and every Apostle that ventures into Church will deface it more.’ Then his eye fell on certain parchments, whereon he had but yesterday sketched out a fair design and had sighed to himself to think that there was no other porch like that at the Abbey Church to ornament. He had thought that, were it to be done again, he would do it thus, and better so. He turned to Master Mark, who watched him with cunning eyes like a pig’s. ‘And what wilt thou pay me for taking down the carvings?’ he asked. ‘Marry,’ cried Mark joyfully, ‘we are no skinflints, good sir; we are honest men and will pay. For each stone thou removest we will give thee ten crowns.’ ‘Ten crowns. Thou jestest, my gentle usurer. Hast thou bethought that the carvings have not only to be removed but also to be replaced by others as beautiful? Thou hast best home again.’ ‘Oh Mary, ten crowns. Wilt thou not take ten crowns? Oh, the hard hearts of men. Not ten crowns? Nay then, fifteen. Nay? Not fifteen? Then twenty, twenty crowns; say twenty crowns for each stone, Master William, eleven twenties, two hundred and twenty crowns in all, or say two hundred, two hundred in all.’