She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside. Baptist Kettleby (for so was the Master named) was a "goodly portly man, and a corpulent," whose fair round paunch bespoke the affection he entertained for good liquor and good living. It was a young girl who overheard me when I was on my third shopkeeper who answered my question. Hoddy, what made you do it? Whatever made you do it?" "God knows! Something said to me: Take it! Take it! And … I took it.
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