llowing his friend John Clarke up the landing stairs
of a certain wharf in the city of London, and gazing earnestly
about him at the narrow, dark street in which he found himself,
where the shades of night seemed already to have fallen.

He knew whither they were bound--to the house of a priest, Thomas
Garret by name, well known to Clarke, and known by name to Dalaber,
too. He was one of the most active of the little band now engaged
in the perilous task of receiving and distributing the translated
Scriptures and the pamphlets issued by Martin Luther and other
reformers. He was an ex-fellow of Magdalen College, now a curate of
Allhallows, near Cheapside. Dalaber had often had a wish to see
this man, having heard of him in many quarters.

And now they stood knocking at the door of his house, which opened
only a few hundred paces from the riverside.

They had to wait some little time; but Clarke was not impatient,
though he gave a peculiar knock more than once upon the door.
Presently it was opened a very little way, and a voice asked:

"Who are you, and what is your errand?"

"Crede et manducasti [i]," spoke Clarke, in a low voice; and at
once the door was opened wider.

He stepped within, and Dalaber followed him. They found themselves
in a very narrow entry hall, and could only see in the gloom that a
serving man stood before them.

"Tell your master that John Clarke from Oxford has come to lodge
with him for a few nights, if he can give him house room."

The man vanished, but almost immediately reappeared and beckoned to
them to follow. He took them down some steps, lighting the way by a
lantern; and after they had descended some score they reached a
door, which he pushed open, revealing a roomy, cellar-like vault,
in which some half-dozen men were busily employed; but so scanty
was the illumination that Dalaber could not for the moment see upon
what task they were bent.

One figure detached itself from the rest and came forward. Dalaber
found himself gazing at a small, wiry-looking man in the frock of a
priest, whose head was slightly bald in addition to the tonsure,
and whose face was thin and lined, as though with vigils and
fasting and prayer. It was the face of an ascetic--thin featured
and thin lipped, pale almost to cadaverousness, but lighted as
though with a fire from within.

The extraordinary power of the shining eyes riveted Dalaber's gaze
from the first moment. Their glance was turned full up