“No more of this,” cried the leader, impatiently.  “Come along.”  And, followed by the others, he rushed to the gates, and locking them after him, flung the key away.

“A hundred pounds were paid to the servant of the chief officer of the works to bring those keys to me,” he said, “and he executed his commission faithfully and well.  Water will be vainly sought for to quench the conflagration.”

“I like not the vision I have just beheld,” said Solomon Eagle, in a troubled tone.  “It seems to portend mischief.”

“Think of it no more,” rejoined the leader, “or regard it as it was—­a phantom created by your overheated imagination.  Yon city has sinned so deeply, that it is the will of Heaven it should be destroyed; and it has been put into our hearts by the Supreme Power to undertake the terrible task.  We are the chosen instruments of the divine displeasure.  Everything favours the design—­the long-continued dry weather—­the strong easterly wind, which will bear the flames into the heart of the city—­the want of water, occasioned by the stopping of these pipes, the emptying of the various aqueducts, and the destruction of the Thames water-tower, which we have accomplished.  Everything favours it, I say, and proves that the hand of Heaven directs us.  Yes, London shall fall!  We have received our commission from on high, and must execute it, regardless of the consequences.  For my own part, I feel as little compunction to the task, as the thunderbolt launched from on high does for the tree it shivers.”

“Philip Grant has uttered my sentiments exactly,” said the man who, it has been mentioned, spoke with a slight foreign accent.  “I have neither misgiving nor compunction.  You appear to have forgotten your own denunciations, brother.”

“Not so, Brother Hubert,” rejoined the enthusiast, “and I now recognise in the vision a delusion of the Evil One to turn me from my holy purpose.  But it has failed.  The impious and impenitent city is doomed, and nothing can save it.  And yet I would fain see it once more as I beheld it this morn when day arose upon it for the last time, from the summit of Saint Paul’s.  It looked so beautiful that my heart smote me, and tears started to my eyes, to think that those goodly habitations, those towers, temples, halls, and palaces, should so soon be levelled with the dust.”

“Hear what the prophet saith,” rejoined Hubert. “’Thou hast defiled thy sanctuaries by the multitude of thine iniquities, by the iniquity of thy traffic.  Therefore will I bring forth a fire from the midst of thee, and will bring thee to ashes upon the earth, in the sight of all those that behold thee.’”

Solomon Eagle flung himself upon his knees, and his example was imitated by the others.  Having recited a prayer in a low deep tone, he arose, and stretching out his arms, solemnly denounced the city.  As he pronounced the words, a red and fiery star shot from the dark vault of the sky, and seemed to fall in the midst of the city.