Determined to make another effort before giving in, Leonard hurried back as fast as he could.  While threading Duck-lane, he heard the doleful bell again, and perceived the dead-cart standing before a house, from which two small coffins were brought.  Hurrying past the vehicle, he remarked that its load was fearfully increased, but that the coffin-maker and his companion had left it.  Another minute had not elapsed before he reached Aldersgate, and passing through the postern, he beheld a light at the end of Saint Anne’s-lane, and heard the terrible voice of Solomon Eagle, calling to the sleepers to awake and repent.

Shutting his ears to the cry, Leonard did not halt till he reached the great western door of the cathedral, against which he knocked.  His first summons remaining unanswered, he repeated it, and a wicket was then opened by a grey-headed verger, with a lantern in his hand, who at first was very angry at being disturbed; but on learning whom the applicant was in search of, and that the case was one of urgent necessity, he admitted that the doctor was in the cathedral at the time.

“Or rather, I should say,” he added, “he is in Saint Faith’s.  I will conduct you to him, if you think proper.  Doctor Hodges is a good man,—­a charitable man,” he continued, “and attends the poor for nothing.  He is now with Matthew Malmayns, the sexton, who was taken ill of the plague yesterday, and will get nothing but thanks—­if he gets those—­for his fee.  But, follow me, young man, follow me.”

So saying, he shut the wicket, and led the way along the transept.  The path was uneven, many of the flags having been removed, and the verger often paused to throw a light upon the ground, and warn his companion of a hole.

On arriving at the head of the nave, Leonard cast his eyes down it, and was surprised at the magical effect of the moonlight upon its magnificent avenue of pillars; the massive shafts on the left being completely illuminated by the silvery beams, while those on the right lay in deep shadow.

“Ay, it is a noble structure,” replied the old verger, noticing his look of wonder and admiration, “and, like many a proud human being, has known better days.  It has seen sad changes in my time, for I recollect it when good Queen Bess ruled the land.  But come along, young man,—­you have something else to think of now.”

Bestowing a momentary glance upon the matchless choir, with its groined roof, its clerestory windows, its arched openings, its carved stalls, and its gorgeous rose-window, Leonard followed his conductor through a small doorway on the left of the southern transept, and descending a flight of stone steps, entered a dark and extensive vault, for such it seemed.  The feeble light of the lantern fell upon ranks of short heavy pillars, supporting a ponderous arched roof.

“You are now in Saint Faith’s,” observed the verger, “and above you is the choir of Saint Paul’s.”