It was a bright moonlight night, and as the apprentice turned to depart, he perceived a figure hastily retreating on the other side of the way.  Making sure it was Maurice Wyvil, though he could not distinguish the garb of the person—­that side of the street being in the shade—­and stung by jealousy, he immediately started in pursuit.  The fugitive struck down Lad-lane, and run on till he came to the end of Lawrence-lane, where, finding himself closely pressed, he suddenly halted, and pulling his hat over his brows to conceal his features, fiercely confronted his pursuer.

“Why do you follow me thus, rascal?” he cried, drawing his sword.  “Would you rob me?  Begone, or I will call the watch.”

“It is his voice!” cried the apprentice.  “I have news for you, Mr. Maurice Wyvil.  You will not see Amabel to-night.  The plague is in her father’s house.”

“The plague!” exclaimed Wyvil, in an altered tone, and dropping the point of his sword.  “Is she smitten by it?”

The apprentice answered by a bitter laugh, and without tarrying longer to enjoy his rival’s distress, set off towards Cheapside.  Before reaching the end of Lawrence-lane, however, he half-repented his conduct, and halted to see whether Wyvil was following him; but as he could perceive nothing of him, he continued his course.

Entering Cheapside, he observed, to his surprise, a crowd of persons collected near the Cross, then standing a little to the east of Wood-street.  This cross, which was of great antiquity, and had undergone many mutilations and alterations since its erection in 1486, when it boasted, amongst other embellishments, images of the Virgin and Saint Edward the Confessor, was still not without some pretensions to architectural beauty.  In form it was hexagonal, and composed of three tiers, rising from one another like the divisions of a telescope, each angle being supported by a pillar surmounted by a statue, while the intervening niches were filled up with sculptures, intended to represent some of the sovereigns of England.  The structure was of considerable height, and crowned by a large gilt cross.  Its base was protected by a strong wooden railing.  About a hundred yards to the east, there stood a smaller hexagonal tower, likewise ornamented with carvings, and having a figure on its conical summit blowing a horn.  This was the Conduit.  Midway between these buildings the crowd alluded to above was collected.

As Leonard drew near, he found the assemblage was listening to the exhortations of an enthusiast, whom he instantly recognised from a description he had heard of him from Blaize.  The name of this half-crazed being was Solomon Eagle.  Originally a Quaker, upon the outbreak of the plague he had abandoned his home and friends, and roamed the streets at night, denouncing doom to the city.  He was a tall gaunt man, with long jet-black hair hanging in disordered masses over his shoulders.  His eyes were large