Parravicin gazed, furiously at him, and half unsheathed his sword.  But the next moment he returned it to the scabbard, and exclaiming, “Another time! another time!” darted after his companions.

He was scarcely gone, when Leonard reeled against the wall, and before Nizza could catch him, fell in a state of insensibility on the floor.

After vainly attempting to raise him, Nizza flew for assistance, and had just passed through the door of the chapel, when she met Judith Malmayns and Chowles.  She instantly stopped them, and acquainting them with the apprentice’s condition, implored them to take charge of him while she went in search of Doctor Hodges.

“Before you go,” said Judith, “let me make sure that he is attacked by the plague.  It may be some other disorder.”

“I hope so, indeed,” said Nizza, pausing; “but I fear the contrary.”

So saying, she returned with them to the chapel.  Raising the apprentice with the greatest ease, Judith tore open his doublet.

“Your suspicion is correct,” she said, with a malignant smile.  “Here is the fatal sign upon his breast.”

“I will fetch Doctor Hodges instantly,” cried Nizza.

“Do so,” replied Judith; “we will convey him to the vaults in Saint Faith’s, where poor Mr. Quatremain has just been taken.  He will be better there than in the pest-house.”

“Anything is better than that,” said Nizza, shuddering.

As soon as she was gone, Chowles took off his long black cloak, and, throwing it over the apprentice, laid him at full length upon the bench, and, assisted by Judith, carried him towards the choir.  As they proceeded, Chowles called out, “Make way for one sick of the plague!” and the crowd instantly divided, and gave them free passage.  In this way they descended to Saint Faith’s, and, shaping their course to the vault, deposited their burden on the very bed lately occupied by the unfortunate sexton.

“He has come here to die,” observed Judith to her companion.  “His attack is but a slight one, and he might with care recover.  But I can bargain with the Earl of Rochester for his removal.”

“Take heed how you make such a proposal to his lordship,” returned Chowles.  “From what I have seen, he is likely to, revolt at it.”

“Every man is glad to get rid of a rival,” rejoined Judith.

“Granted,” replied Chowles; “but no man will pay for the riddance when the plague will accomplish it for him for nothing.”

“With due attention, I would answer for that youth’s recovery,” said Judith.  “It is not an incurable case, like Mr. Quatremain’s.  And so Doctor Hodges, when he comes, will pronounce it.”

Shortly after this, Nizza Macaseree appeared with a countenance fraught with anxiety, and informed them that Doctor Hodges was from home, and would not probably return till late at night.

“That’s unfortunate,” said Judith.  “Luckily, however, there are other doctors in London, and some who understand the treatment of the plague far better than he does—­Sibbald, the apothecary of Clerkenwell, for instance.”