The effect of those words on the angry multitude was wonderful.

The hands raised to strike were lowered, and voices on all sides exclaimed: "It is Father Urban; we may not withstand him." Still the anger of the mob was not calmed in a moment, and fierce voices exclaimed in threatening accents: "A spy! he is a spy!" "Then bring him hither to me; I will judge him," said the priest, in the same tones of calm assurance.

"If I find him worthy of death, I will give him over to your hands again." "That will do; Father Urban shall judge him!" cried a brawny fellow who seemed to be something of a leader with his fellows.

"The Father never lied to us yet.

He will give him back if he finds him a spy." Cuthbert was now jostled and hustled, but not in the same angry fashion, to a small narrow door in a deep embrasure, and when this door presently swung back on its hinges, the crowd surged quickly backwards as though in some sort afraid.