“Nay, and thou come to _that_ game, there be those within, good at the game of quarter staff; meanwhile we will blow the horn and rouse the watch.” “Thou old fool, we will break thy bones, as well as the door; we tell thee _we_ are the constables--the watch.” “’Tisn’t old Hodge’s voice,” said another; “ask the fellow who he is.” “Who art thou, fool?” “That is for wise men like thee to find out.” “Well, then, here are Roger Hancock, John Sprygs, James Griggs, Denis Howlet, the four constables, and Laurence Craveall, a body servant of Sir John Redfyrne.” “I fear me, friend, thou art taking the names of better men in vain; more to the token, thou showest thyself a liar: for well do I know that neither Jack Sprygs nor Jim Griggs ever leave the ale-tap after curfew, until it is time to tumble, drunk, into their sinful beds.” “Break open the doors,” cried the two impugned worthies, in a rage. “I will loose the mastiff upon you.” But in spite of this direful threat, which it would have been difficult to fulfil, as no mastiff was in the house, the men commenced breaking down the door. At that instant old Hodge appeared, and signifying by a sign all was right, cried aloud-- “What are you doing at my door?” “Breaking it down, with a search warrant for our justification.” “Thou mayst save thyself the trouble; I have nought here to hide;” and the old man withdrew the bars. Four ill-looking men, Jacks in office, entered, and behind them two faces appeared, whose owners preferred to stay without; the one was the valet of Sir John Redfyrne, the other Nicholas Grabber. The two constables whom he had so grievously aspersed fixed their eyes upon the priest. “So it was thou, was it, who kept us waiting?” “Your pardon, if I mistook you; doubtless you have good cause for your untimely errand.” “We have pulled down monks, and your turn may come next,” said the surly John Sprygs, “and then you may not have the chance of taking sober folks’ reputation away; but enough of this, where is that young rascal, Cuthbert Hodge, if that is his name, we have a warrant for his apprehension?” “Why, he has been away ever since November.” “But came home to-night; here is the witness. Nick Grabber, when didst thou last see Cuthbert Hodge?” “This evening, riding with another lad through the common gate, on the Langport Road.” “And does thy worshipful father permit thee, now thy school days are over, to spend thy time in Glastonbury as a spy?” said old Hodge. “My worshipful father has given me to the care of Sir John Redfyrne, as a page, old man, so thou hadst better keep a civil tongue in thine head, and it will be better for thy young bastard’s bones; he shall pay for it.” “I think, my son,” said the priest very quietly, “that when thou wast coupled between two hounds, as a truant, thou must have learnt from them to bite and snarl.” “We have no time for all this nonsense,” said the head constable, “where is this youngster?”