ut somewhere from the Tower, and a ripple ran through
the crowd. There was an immensely tall man a few yards from Chris, and
Chris could see his face turn suddenly towards the lower ground by the
river where the gateway rose up dark against the bright water. The man's
face suddenly lighted with interest, and Chris saw his lips move and his
eyes become intent. Then a surging movement began, and the monk was
swept away to the left by the packed crowd round him. There were faces
lining the wall and opposite, and all were turned one way. A great
murmur began to swell up, and a woman beside him turned white and began
to sob quietly.

His eyes caught a bright point of light that died again, flashed out,
and resolved itself into a gleaming line of halberds, moving on towards
the right above the heads, up the slope to the scaffold. He saw a horse
toss his head; and then a feathered cap or two swaying behind.

Then for one instant between the shifting heads in front he caught sight
of a lean face framed in a flapped cap swaying rhythmically as if borne
on a chair. It vanished again.

The flashing line of halberds elongated itself, divided, and came
between the scaffold and him; and the murmur of the crowd died to a
heart-shaking silence. A solemn bell clanged out again from the interior
of the prison, and Chris, his wet hands knit together, began to count
the strokes mechanically, staring at the narrow rail of the scaffold,
and waiting for the sight that he knew would come. Then again he was
swept along a yard or two to the right, and when he had recovered his
feet a man was on the scaffold, bending forwards and gesticulating.
Another head rose into the line of vision, and this man too turned
towards the steps up which he had come, and stood, one hand
outstretched.

Again a murmur and movement began; Chris had to look to his foothold,
and when he raised his head again a solemn low roar was rising up and
swelling, of pity and excitement, for, silhouetted against the sunlit
Tower behind, stood the man for whose sake all were there.

He was in a black gown and tippet, and carried his two hands clasped to
his breast; and in them was a book and a crucifix. His cap was on his
head, and the white face, incredibly thin, looked out over the heads of
the crowd.

Chris hardly noticed that the scaffold was filling with people, until a
figure came forward, in black, with a masked face, and bowed
deferentially to the bishop; and in an