Musing thus, he scanned the roof of the cathedral, and noticing its stunted central tower, could not help thinking how much more striking its effects must have been, when the lofty spire it once supported was standing.  The spire, it may be remarked, was twice destroyed by lightning; first in February, 1444, and subsequently in June, 1561, when it was entirely burnt down, and never rebuilt.  Passing the Convocation House, which then stood at one side of the southern transept, Leonard struck down Paul’s Chain, and turning to the right, speeded along Great Knightrider-street, until he reached an old habitation at the corner of the passage leading to Doctors’ Commons.

Knocking at the door, an elderly servant presently appeared, and in answer to his inquiries whether Doctor Hodges was at home, stated that he had gone out, about half an hour ago, to attend Mr. Fisher, a proctor, who had been suddenly attacked by the plague at his residence in Bartholomew-close, near Smithfield.

“I am come on the same errand,” said Leonard, “and must see your master instantly.”

“If you choose to go to Bartholomew-close,” replied the servant, “you may probably meet with him.  Mr. Fisher’s house is the last but two, on the right, before you come to the area in front of the church.”

“I can easily find it,” returned Leonard, “and will run there as fast as I can.  But if your master should pass me on the road, beseech him to go instantly to Stephen Bloundell’s, the grocer, in Wood-street.”

The servant assenting, Leonard hastily retraced his steps, and traversing Blow-bladder-street and Saint-Martin’s-le-Grand, passed through Aldersgate.  He then shaped his course through the windings of Little Britain and entered Duck-lane.  He was now in a quarter fearfully assailed by the pestilence.  Most of the houses had the fatal sign upon their doors—­a red cross, of a foot long, with the piteous words above it, “Lord have mercy upon us,” in characters so legible that they could be easily distinguished by the moonlight, while a watchman, with a halberd in his hand, kept guard outside.

Involuntarily drawing in his breath, Leonard quickened his pace.  But he met with an unexpected and fearful interruption.  Just as he reached the narrow passage leading from Duck-lane to Bartholomew-close, he heard the ringing of a bell, followed by a hoarse voice, crying, “Bring out your dead—­bring out your dead!” he then perceived that a large, strangely-shaped cart stopped up the further end of the passage, and heard a window open, and a voice call out that all was ready.  The next moment a light was seen at the door, and a coffin was brought out and placed in the cart.  This done, the driver, who was smoking a pipe, cracked his whip, and put the vehicle in motion.