Mr. Dacre’s house proved to be a very stately and fair one, towards the west end of the town; it stood in a broad, very quiet street; too quiet, I thought.  Althea bade Will knock boldly at the door; ’We will not be too humble,’ says she; and he knocked loudly enough, once, twice, thrice; but no one came to open to us, and our knocking seemed to echo and re-echo strangely through the house.

‘Sure,’ says Althea, ’all the folks cannot be asleep; ’tis past ten o’clock,’ and she knocked once more.

There was a gentleman come out of a neighbouring house, who had looked curiously at us; he now drew near, and, standing a little way off, called out, ’It is little use to knock at that door, ladies—­the master is dead a week since, and the house stands empty;’ at which Althea turned a deadly pale face to him, saying,—­

‘Do not mock us—­sure, it cannot be so.’

The man, looking compassionately at her, now came up to us and said, ’Nay, my words are too true, madam.  Have you any interest in this Mr. Dacre?’

‘I am his cousin,’ said Althea, ’and I am come up from the North on great occasion, to see my kinsman and claim his help.’

‘Alas!’ said the gentleman; ’he is past rendering help to any.  It was mightily suspected,’ said he whisperingly, ’that he died of the Plague; but your great rich folks can smother these matters up.  This is certain, that he had secret and hasty burial, and all his family are fled and gone, without so much as locking the door behind them, as it is said; but I think none have been so bold as to try that; men love their lives too well to venture within; nor would I advise you to do it.’

‘No, no,’ said Althea a little wildly; ’I will not take the Plague and die—­not yet; I have work to do;’ at which the man smiled pityingly, and added,—­

’You would not find Mr. Dacre here now, were he in life—­he designed to follow the Court, which is removed to Salisbury for safety; but he lingered about some money matters, which have cost him very dear, as I think;’ and bowing to us he walked hastily away.

Well, we knew not what to do now, and so returned to our inn, where we sat the rest of the day in the room we had hired, talking over our few acquaintance in town, but unable to hit on one who would have will and power to help us much.  Our good hostess served us again at supper, and asked how we sped in our search for Mr. Dacre; so unthinkingly we told her the whole tale; at which her colour changed and she left the room without saying a word in answer.  That night we slept heavily for very trouble; so we were not aware of a great stir there was in the night; for Mrs. Bell, the poor landlady, was taken very ill about midnight, the maids were called up, and a physician sent for; they had some trouble to find one; but when he came he told them plainly that her disorder, which they and she too had feared was the Plague, was nothing but pure terror; our careless words about Mr. Dacre’s death having struck such a fear in her as to throw her into a kind of fever.