He was cursed with a bad and sometimes ungovernable temper.

He was honest and courageous.

He rarely knew how to do the right thing at the right time or in the right place.

And finally he had a bad name, and believed himself to be a homicide.

Such was the commonplace creature who, with a sovereign in his pocket and the whole world before him, paced the streets of York that Tuesday night.
On one point his mind was made up.