"What! crying out for THAT!" said Edmund Burgess, who had just come
in to ask for a pair of tongs. "What wouldst say to the big hammer
that none can wield save Kit himself?"

Giles felt there was no redress, and panted on, feeling as if he
were melting away, and with a dumb, wild rage in his heart, that
could get no outlet, for Smallbones was at least as much bigger than
he as he was than Stephen. Tibble was meanwhile busy over the
gilding and enamelling of Buckingham's magnificent plate armour in
Italian fashion, but he had found time to thrust into Ambrose's hand
an exceedingly small and curiously folded billet for Lucas Hansen,
the printer, in case of need. "He would be found at the sign of the
Winged Staff, in Paternoster Row," said Tibble, "or if not there
himself, there would be his servant who would direct Ambrose to the
place where the Dutch printer lived and worked." No one was at
leisure to show the lad the way, and he set out with a strange
feeling of solitude, as his path began decisively to be away from
that of his brother.

He did not find much difficulty in discovering the quadrangle on the
south side of the minster where the minor canons lived near the
deanery; and the porter, a stout lay brother, pointed out to him the
doorway belonging to Master Alworthy. He knocked, and a young man
with a tonsured head but a bloated face opened it. Ambrose
explained that he had brought a letter from the Warden of St.
Elizabeth's College at Winchester.

"Give it here," said the young man.