Its doors hung wide, and across the threshold, in and out, moved two continuous streams of officers and men.
A while Crispin and his captors stood in the spacious hall; then they ushered him roughly into one of the abutting rooms.

Here he was brought face to face with a man of middle height, red and coarse of countenance and large of nose, who stood fully armed in the centre of the chamber.
His head was uncovered, and on the table at his side stood the morion he had doffed.

He looked up as they entered, and for a few seconds rested his glance sourly upon the lank, bold-eyed prisoner, who coldly returned his stare.
"Whom have we here ?" he inquired at length, his scrutiny having told him nothing.
"One whose offence is too heinous to have earned him a soldier's death, my lord," answered Pride.
"Therein you lie, you damned rebel!" cried Crispin.

"If accuse you must, announce the truth.

Tell Master Cromwell"-- for he had guessed the man's identity--"that single-handed I held my own against you and a score of you curs, and that not until I had cut down seven of them was I taken.
Tell him that, master psalm-singer, and let him judge whether you lied or not.