He was warming himself at the fire in the courtyard. A girl appeared and asked him if he knows the offender.

He muttered a denial and hurried away. Did I hear a rooster’s crow? Is it already dawn?

His mind is still trying to comprehend the night’s procession.

Looking up, he realised eyes were staring at him and the crowd was muttering something about him.

“He’s one of them.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’ve seen you with him.” “No. I don’t know him.”

The rooster crowed again. This time, Peter heard it clearly, broke down and cried.