“But the witnesses will be with us within the hour. Put it back but one little hour and they must be here.”
“Impossible. We hold the King's warrant, and must obey it to the letter.”
“God in heaven! Do you not see yourself, do you not think that if this thing is done, two innocent men will die?”
“It is not for me to think. My part is to act.”
“Where is your chief? Can you go on without him?”
“We can and must.”
The clock in the Market Place registered ten minutes to eight. A pale-faced man in the crowd started a hymn.
“Stop his mouth,” cried a voice from the roof of the shambles, “the Quaker rascal!” And the men in blouses started a catch. But the singing continued; others joined in it, and soon it swelled to a long wave of song and flowed over that human sea.
But the clock was striking, and before its last bell had ceased to ring, between the lines of the hymn, a window of the guard-house was thrown open and a number of men stepped out.