After the trial was over, and the condemned man led back to prison to await his execution, Bradbury went straight to 13 Farringdon Street and inquired for Captain Cowen.
"No such name here," said the good woman of the house.
"But you keep lodgers?"
"Nay, we keep but one; and he is no captain—he is a City clerk."
"Well, madam, it is not idle curiosity, I assure you, but was not the lodger before him Captain Cowen?"
"Laws, no! It was a parson. Your rakehelly captains wouldn't suit the like of us. Twas a reverend clerk, a grave old gentleman. He wasn't very well-to-do, I thinks his cassock was worn, but he paid his way."
"Keep late hours?"
"Not when he was in town; but he had a country cure."
"Then you have let him in after midnight."
"Nay, I keep no such hours. I lent him a pass-key. He came in and out from the country when he chose. I would have you to know he was an old man, and a sober man, and an honest man: I'd wager my life on that. And excuse me, sir, but who be you, that do catechise me to about my lodgers?"