“No matter who we are,” replied Leonard, “we demand admittance to search for a young female who has been taken from her home by the Earl of Rochester, and is now concealed within the vaults of the cathedral.”

“If admittance is refused us, we will soon let ourselves in,” vociferated Lamplugh.

“Ay, that we will,” added the smith.

“You are mistaken, friends,” returned the verger, timorously.  “The Earl of Rochester is not here.”

“We will not take your word for it,” rejoined the smith.  “This will show you we are not to be trifled with.”

So saying, he raised his hammer, and struck such a tremendous blow against the door, that the bolts started in their sockets.

“Hold! hold!” cried the verger; “sooner than violence shall be committed, I will risk your admission.”

And he unfastened the door.

“Keep together,” shouted the smith, stretching out his arms to oppose the progress of the crowd.  “Keep together, I say.”

“Ay, ay, keep together,” added Lamplugh, seconding his efforts.

“Conduct us to the Earl of Rochester, and no harm shall befall you,” cried Leonard, seizing the verger by the collar.

“I tell you I know nothing about him,” replied the man.  “He is not here.”

“It is false! you are bribed to silence,” rejoined the apprentice.  “We will search till we find him.”

“Search where you please,” rejoined the verger; “and if you do find him, do what you please with me.”

“Don’t be afraid of that, friend,” replied the smith; “we will hang you and the earl to the same pillar.”

By this time, the crowd had pushed aside the opposition offered by the smith and Lamplugh.  Solomon Eagle darted along the nave with lightning swiftness, and, mounting the steps leading to the choir, disappeared from view.  Some few persons followed him, while others took their course along the aisles.  But the majority kept near the apprentice.

Snatching the lamp from the grasp of the verger, Leonard Holt ran on with his companions till they came to the beautiful chapel built by Thomas Kempe, bishop of London.  The door was open, and the apprentice, holding the light forward, perceived there were persons inside.  He was about to enter the chapel, when a small spaniel rushed forth, and, barking furiously, held him in check for a moment.  Alarmed by the noise, an old man in a tattered garb, and a young female, who were slumbering on benches in the chapel, immediately started to their feet, and advanced towards them.

“We are mistaken,” said Lamplugh; “this is only Mike Macascree, the blind piper and his daughter Nizza.  I know them well enough.”

Leonard was about to proceed with his search, but a slight circumstance detained him for a few minutes, during which time he had sufficient leisure to note the extraordinary personal attractions of Nizza Macascree.