‘Master Cotterstoke. Oh, undoubtedly.’ Coleswyn smiled ironically, then added, ‘My wife looks forward to meeting you tonight. Around six, if that is not too late?’

‘That would be convenient. I have business in the afternoon.’

We rode on. Coleswyn seemed preoccupied today and spoke little. Then we passed the mouth of an alleyway, where a commotion was taking place. A couple of burly men were bringing out furniture from a house in the alley: a truckle bed, a table, a couple of rickety chairs. They loaded them on a cart, while a woman in cheap wadmol clothing, several small children clinging to her skirts, stood by stony-faced. A middle-aged man was arguing loudly with a large fellow who had a club at his waist and was supervising the removal.

‘We’re only a month behind with the rent! We’ve been there twelve years! I can’t help it trade’s so bad!’

‘Not my problem, goodman,’ the big fellow answered unsympathetically. ‘You’re in arrears and you’ve got to go.’

‘People don’t want building repairs done this year, not with all the taxes there have been for the war! And the rise in prices – ’ The man turned to a little crowd that was gathering. There were murmurs of agreement.

‘An eviction,’ Coleswyn observed quietly.

‘There have been many of those this year.’

The builder’s wife suddenly lunged forward and grasped a chest which the two men had brought from the alleyway. ‘No!’ she cried. ‘That’s my husband’s tools!’

‘Everything is to be taken to pay the arrears,’ the big man said.

The builder joined his wife. His voice was almost frantic. ‘I can’t work without those! I’m allowed to keep my tools!’

‘Leave that chest be!’ A man who had joined the crowd shouted threateningly. The fellow with the club – the landlord’s agent, presumably – looked round nervously; the number of spectators was growing.

We halted as Coleswyn called out, ‘He’s right! He can keep the tools of his trade! I’m a lawyer!’

The crowd turned to us; many of their faces were hostile, even though Coleswyn was trying to help. Lawyers are never popular. The man with the club, though, seemed relieved. ‘All right!’ he shouted. ‘Leave that chest, if it’s the law!’ He could tell his employer later that a lawyer had interfered.

The men lowered the chest to the ground and the woman sat on it, gathering her children round her. ‘You can go, pen-scratchers!’ someone shouted at us. ‘Salved your consciences, have you?’

We rode on. ‘Poor men lie under great temptation to doubt God’s providence,’ Coleswyn said quietly. ‘But one day, when we have the godly Commonwealth, there will be justice for men of all ranks.’