Long before curfew the countryman had gone home to his village in the Arden country or by the London road to Dunsmoor Heath; while the traveller in his inn and the townsman under his own roof were soon abed. What light there was in the deserted streets on winter evenings came from the lamps which hung over the door of every hostelry and every substantial citizen's house, until nine o'clock,[514] after which time the city gates were closed,[515] and none were abroad save thieves and watchmen. Indeed, the very fact of being out after dark was in itself presumptive evidence of some dishonest purpose on the part of the belated wayfarer. At any suspicious sight or sound the watch were on the alert, and prepared to arrest the wanderer; should the prisoner escape and take to flight, they would instantly give chase, and fill the dark and empty streets with the echoes of their pursuit. A hue and cry would be raised, doors open, and householders pour forth to aid the watch. If the unlucky fugitive were captured, he would be committed to ward in all haste.[516] What a crowd of different types of men must have jostled against one another in the noisy throng! Craftsmen, attired in the livery proper to their calling, a custom whereof we have this day a relic in the butcher's blouse; merchants from foreign parts, or natives fresh from a sea voyage; mayor and aldermen clad maybe in festal scarlet; the crier and sergeants in the livery of the city; men-at-arms, the retainers of some great lord, bearing the badge of the Earls of Warwick, or the Stafford knot; Benedictines, clad in white cassock and black gown and hood; Franciscans, with their brown habit and knotted girdle; Carmelites from Whitefriars in white frock and brown scapulary; Carthusians from the Charter-house, with white cassock and hood; chantry and parish priests--all these, laymen and clerics, warriors and traders, met, passed, and gave greeting in the streets.