“I am glad it was a vain hope,” replied Wyvil.  “But I must scale a wall to surprise the garrison.”

“In that case you will need the rope-ladder,” replied Lydyard; “it is in readiness.”

“I will carry it,” said Pillichody, picking up the ladder which was lying in a corner of the room, and throwing it over his shoulders.  “Bombs and batteries!  I like to be an escalader when the forts of love are stormed.”

The party then set out.  As they proceeded, Parravicin ascertained from the major that Disbrowe’s house was situated in a small street leading out of Piccadilly, but as he could not be quite sure that he understood his informant aright, he engaged him to accompany him and point it out.

By this time they had reached Wood-street, and keeping in the shade, reconnoitred the house.  But though Wyvil clapped his hands, blew a shrill whistle, and made other signals, no answer was returned, nor was a light seen at any of the upper windows.  On the contrary, all was still and silent as death.

The grocer’s was a large, old-fashioned house, built about the middle of the preceding century, or perhaps earlier, and had four stories, each projecting over the other, till the pile seemed completely to overhang the street.  The entire front, except the upper story, which was protected by oaken planks, was covered with panels of the same timber, and the projections were supported by heavy beams, embellished with grotesque carvings.  Three deeply-embayed windows, having stout wooden bars, filled with minute diamond panes, set in leaden frames, were allotted to each floor; while the like number of gables, ornamented with curiously-carved coignes, and long-moulded leaden spouts, shooting far into the street, finished the roof.  A huge sign, with the device of Noah’s Ark, and the owner’s name upon it, hung before the door.

After carefully examining the house, peeping through the chinks in the lower shutters, and discovering the grocer seated by the bedside of his son, though he could not make out the object of his solicitude, Wyvil decided upon attempting an entrance by the backyard.  To reach it, a court and a narrow alley, leading to an open space surrounded by high walls, had to be traversed.  Arrived at this spot, Wyvil threw one end of the rope ladder over the wall, which was about twelve feet high, and speedily succeeding in securing it, mounted, and drawing it up after him, waved his hand to his companions, and disappeared on the other side.  After waiting for a moment to listen, and hearing a window open, they concluded he had gained admittance, and turned to depart.

“And now for Mrs. Disbrowe!” cried Parravicin.  “We shall find a coach or a chair in Cheapside.  Can I take you westward, Lydyard?”

But the other declined the offer, saying, “I will not desert Wyvil.  I feel certain he will get into some scrape, and may need me to help him out of it.  Take care of yourself, Parravicin.  Beware of the plague, and of what is worse than the plague, an injured husband.  Good-night, major.”