An instant's lull there was, like the lull in nature that precedes a clap of thunder.

Then, as with one accord, a dozen of them bore down upon him.
It was a vile thing they did, perhaps; but then they had drunk deep, and Kenneth Stewart counted no friend amongst them.

In an instant they had him, kicking and biting, on the floor; his doublet was torn rudely open, and from his breast Tyler plucked the letter whose existence had led to this shameless scene.
But ere he could so much as unfold it, a voice rang harsh and imperative: "Hold!" Pausing, they turned to confront a tall, gaunt man in a leather jerkin and a broad hat decked by goose-quill, who came slowly forward.
"The Tavern Knight," cried one, and the shout of "A rouse for the hero of Red Hill!" was taken up on every hand.

For despite his sour visage and ungracious ways there was not a roysterer in the Royal army to whom he was not dear.
But as he now advanced, the coldness of his bearing and the forbidding set of his face froze them into silence.
"Give me that letter," he demanded sternly of Tyler.
Taken aback, Tyler hesitated for a second, whilst Crispin waited with hand outstretched.

Vainly did he look round for sign or word of help or counsel.