“I have,” replied Judith, “and in very different hands.”

“You surprise me,” cried Nizza.  “Explain yourself, I beseech you.”

“Not now—­not now,” cried Judith, hastily returning the coin.  “And this is to be mine in case I cure the youth?”

“I have said so,” replied Nizza.

“Then make yourself easy,” rejoined Judith; “he shall be well again in less than two days.”

With this, she set a pan on the fire, and began to prepare a poultice, the materials for which she took from a small oaken chest in one corner of the vault.  Nizza looked on anxiously, and while they were thus employed, a knock was heard at the door, and Chowles opening it, found the piper and one of the vergers.

“Ah! is it you, father?” cried Nizza, rushing to him.

“I am glad I have found you,” returned the piper, “for I began to fear some misfortune must have befallen you.  Missing you in the morning, I traversed the cathedral in search of you with Bell, well knowing, if you were in the crowd, she would speedily discover you.”

His daughter then hastily recounted what had happened.  When the piper heard that she had promised the piece of gold to the plague-nurse, a cloud came over his open countenance.

“You must never part with it,” he said—­“never.  It is an amulet, and if you lose it, or give it away, your good luck will go with it.”

“Judith Malmayns says she has seen it before,” rejoined Nizza.

“No such thing,” cried the piper hastily, “she knows nothing about it.  But come with me.  You must not stay here longer.”

“But, father—­dear father!—­I want a small sum to pay the nurse for attending this poor young man,” cried Nizza.

“I have no money,” replied the piper; “and if I had, I should not throw it away in so silly a manner.  Come along; I shall begin think you are in love with the youth.”

“Then you will not be far wide of the mark,” observed Judith, coarsely.

The piper uttered an angry exclamation, and taking his daughter’s hand, dragged her out of the vault.

“You will not get your fee,” laughed Chowles, as they were left alone.

“So it appears,” replied Judith, taking the pan from the fire; “there is no use in wasting a poultice.”

Shortly after this, the door of the vault again opened, and Parravicin looked in.  He held a handkerchief sprinkled with vinegar to his face, and had evidently, from the manner in which he spoke, some antidote against the plague in his mouth.

“Nizza Macascree has been here, has she not?” he asked.

“She has just left with her father,” replied Judith.

Parravicin beckoned her to follow him, and led the way to the north aisle of Saint Faith’s.

“Is the apprentice likely to recover?” he asked.

“Humph!” exclaimed Judith; “that depends upon circumstances.  Nizza Macascree offered me a large reward to cure him.”