retend Sir John found him
and brought him home from Palestine."

Branny named, one by one, the rest of the Trustees, all persons of
importance.

Mr. Colt and the Bishop's chaplain brought up the rear.

The procession came to a halt. Old Warboise had not followed in the
wake of the Brethren, but stood at the foot of the stairway, and
leaned there on his staff. His face was pale, his jaw set square to
perform his duty. His hand trembled, though, as he held out a paper,
accosting the Bishop.

"My lord," he said, "some of the Brethren desire you as Visitor to
read this Petition."

"Hey?" interrupted the Master, taken by surprise. "Tut--tut--my good
Warboise, what's the meaning of this?"

"Very sorry, Master," Brother Warboise mumbled: "and meaning no
disrespect to you, that have always ruled St. Hospital like a
gentleman. But a party must reckon with his conscience."

The Bishop eyed the document dubiously, holding it between finger and
thumb.

"Some affair of discipline?" he asked, turning to the Master.

"Romanisers, my lord--Romanisers: that's what's the matter!" answered
Brother Warboise, lifting his voice and rapping the point of his
staff on the gravel.

Good Master Blanchminster, shocked by this address, lifted his eyes
beyond Warboise and perceived the womenkind gathered around their
doorways, listening. Nothing of the sort had happened in all his
long and beneficent rule. He was scandalised. He lost his temper.

"Brother Warboise," he said severely, "whatever your grievances--and
I will inquire into it later--you have chosen a highly indecorous
and, er, offensive way of obtruding it. At this moment, sir, we are
going together to dine and to thank God for many mercies vouchsafed
to us. If you have any sense of these you will stand aside now and
follow us when we have passed. His lordship will read your petition
at a more convenient opportunity."

"Quite so, my good man." The Bishop took his cue and pocketed the
paper, nodding shortly. The procession moved forward and mounted the
staircase, Brother Warboise stumping after it at a little distance,
scowling as he climbed, scowling after the long back and wide
shoulders of Mr. Colt as they climbed directly ahead of him.

Around their tables in the Hundred Men's Hall the Brethren were
gathered expectant.

"Buzz for the Bishop--here he comes!" quoted Brother Copas, and stood
forth ready to deliver the Latin grace as the visitors found their