,
through association, into the mists of the Middle Ages. The church dates
from the thirteenth century and, though it has been skilfully restored
on more than one occasion, there is nothing in its cathedral-like
proportions that suggests modernity; the Moot Hall, erected a hundred
years later, remains precisely as when it was first fashioned, and
though it, too, has passed under the hand of the restorer its renovation
has only taken the shape of strengthening an already formidably
strong building. Extending across nearly the whole eastern end
of the market-place, and flanked on one side by an ancient
dwelling-house--once the official residence of the Mayors of
Hathelsborough--and on the other by a more modern but still old-world
building, long used as a bank, Hathelsborough Moot Hall presents the
appearance of a mediaeval fortress, as though its original builders had
meant it to be a possible refuge for the townsfolk against masterful
Baron or marauding Scot. From the market-place itself there is but one
entrance to it; an arched doorway opening upon a low-roofed stone hall;
in place of a door there are heavy gates of iron, with a smaller
wicket-gate set in their midst; from the stone hall a stone stair leads
to the various chambers above; in the outer walls the windows are high
and narrow; each is filled with old painted glass. A strong, grim
building, this; and when the iron gates are locked, as they are every
night when the curfew bell--an ancient institution jealously kept up in
Hathelsborough--rings from St. Hathelswide's tower, a man might safely
wager his all to nothing that only modern artillery could effect an
entrance to its dark and gloomy interior.

On a certain April evening, the time being within an hour of
curfew--which, to be exact, is rung in Hathelsborough every night, all
the year round, sixty minutes after sunset, despite the fact that it is
nowadays but a meaningless if time-honoured ceremony--Bunning, caretaker
and custodian of the Moot Hall, stood without its gates, smoking his
pipe and looking around him. He was an ex-Army man, Bunning, who had
seen service in many parts of the world, and was frequently heard to
declare that although he had set eyes on many men and many cities he
had never found the equal of Hathelsborough folk, nor seen a fairer
prospect than that on which he now gazed. The truth was that Bunning was
a Hathelsborough man, and having wandered about a good deal during his
militar