the course of Ralph's travels he came across, more than once, a hot
scene in the village inn, and was able to use his own personality and
prestige as a King's Visitor in the direction that he wished.

He came for example one Saturday night to the little village of
Maresfield, near Fletching, and after seeing his horses and servants
bestowed, came into the parlour, where the magnates were assembled.
There were half a dozen there, sitting round the fire, who rose
respectfully as the great gentleman strode in, and eyed him with a
sudden awe as they realised from the landlord's winks and whispers that
he was of a very considerable importance.

From the nature of his training Ralph had learnt how to deal with all
conditions of men; and by the time that he had finished supper, and
drawn his chair to the fire, they were talking freely again, as indeed
he had encouraged them to do, for they did not of course, any more than
the landlord, guess at his identity or his business there.

Ralph soon brought the talk round again to the old subject, and asked
the opinions of the company as to the King's policy in the visitation of
the Religious Houses There was a general silence when he first opened
the debate, for they were dangerous times; but the gentleman's own
imperturbable air, his evident importance, and his friendliness,
conspired with the strong beer to open their mouths, and in five minutes
they were at it.

One, a little old man in the corner who sat with crossed legs, nursing
his mug, declared that to his mind the whole thing was sacrilege; the
houses, he said, had been endowed to God's glory and service, and that
to turn them to other uses must bring a curse on the country. He went on
to remark--for Ralph deftly silenced the chorus of protest--that his own
people had been buried in the church of the Dominican friars at Arundel
for three generations, and that he was sorry for the man who laid hands
on the tomb of his grandfather--known as Uncle John--for the old man had
been a desperate churchman in his day, and would undoubtedly revenge
himself for any indignity offered to his bones.

Ralph pointed out, with a considerate self-repression, that the
illustration was scarcely to the point, for the King's Grace had no
intention, he believed, of disturbing any one's bones; the question at
issue rather regarded flesh and blood. Then a chorus broke out, and the
hunt was up.

One, the butcher, with many blessings invoked on K