It was not true, he told himself; it was the dream of a man mad with sleeplessness, foolish with fasting and discipline and vigils: one had dreamed it and babbled of it to the rest and none had liked to be less spiritual or perceptive of divine manifestations. A brown figure was by the altar now to light the candles for Vespers; a taper was in his hand, and the spot of light at the end moved like a star against the gilding and carving. Ralph turned and went out. Then on the fourth of May he was present at the execution of the three priors and the two other priests at Tyburn. There was an immense crowd there, nearly the whole Court being present; and it was reported here and there afterwards that the King himself was there in a group of five horsemen, who came in the accoutrements of Borderers, vizored and armed, and took up their position close to the scaffold. There fell a terrible silence as the monks were dragged up on the hurdles, in their habits, all three together behind one horse. They were cut down almost at once, and the butchery was performed on them while they were still alive. Ralph went home in a glow of resolution against them. A tragedy such as that which he had seen was of necessity a violent motive one way or the other, and it found him determined that the sufferers were in the wrong, and left him confirmed in his determination. Their very passivity enraged him. Meanwhile, he had of course heard nothing of his brother’s presence in London, and it was with something of a shock that on the next afternoon he heard the news from Mr. Morris that Mr. Christopher was below and waiting for him in the parlour. As he went down he wondered what Chris was doing in London, and what he himself could say to him. He was expecting Beatrice, too, to call upon him presently with her maid to give him a message and a bundle of letters which he had promised to convey to Sir Thomas More. But he was determined to be kind to his brother. Chris was standing in his black monk’s habit on the other side of the walnut table, beside the fire-place, and made no movement as Ralph came forward smiling and composed. His face was thinner than his brother remembered it, clean-shaven now, with hollows in the cheeks, and his eyes were strangely light. “Why, Chris!” said Ralph, and stopped, astonished at the other’s motionlessness. Then Chris came round the table with a couple of swift steps, his hands raised a little from the wide, drooping sleeves. “Ah! brother,” he said, “I have come to bring you away: this is a wicked place.” Ralph was so amazed that he fell back a step. “Are you mad?” he said coldly enough, but he felt a twitch of superstitious fear at his heart. Chris seized the rich silk sleeve in both his hands, and Ralph felt them trembling and nervous. “You must come away,” he said, “for Jesu’s sake, brother! You must not lose your soul.”