“If my poor son is spared, and we escape contagion,” returned Bloundel, “I will put into execution a scheme which has occurred to me, and which (under Providence!) will, I trust, secure my family from further hazard.”

“Ah, indeed! what is that?” inquired Hodges.

“We must talk of it some other time,” returned Bloundel “Good-night, doctor, and accept my thanks for your attention.  To-morrow, at as early an hour as you can make convenient, I shall hope to see you.”  And with a friendly shake of the hand, and a reiteration of advice and good wishes, Hodges departed.

Soon after this the apprentice returned, and by his master’s directions, placed a chafing-dish in the middle of the room, supplying it with the drugs and herbs left by the doctor.  About four o’clock, a loud knocking was heard.  Instantly answering the summons, Leonard found four men at the shop-door, two of whom he knew, by red wands they carried, were searchers; while their companions appeared to be undertakers, from their sable habits and long black cloaks.

Marching unceremoniously into the shop, the searchers desired to see the sick man; and the apprentice then perceived that one of the men in black cloaks was the coffin-maker, Chowles.  He could not, however, refuse him admittance, and led the way to the grocer’s chamber.  As they entered it, Bloundel arose, and placing his finger to his lips in token of silence, raised the blankets, and exhibited the blotch, which had greatly increased in size, under the arm of his slumbering son.  The foremost of the searchers, who kept a phial of vinegar to his nose all the time he remained in the room, then demanded in a low tone whether there were any other of the household infected?  The grocer replied in the negative.  Upon this, Chowles, whose manner showed he was more than half intoxicated, took off his hat, and bowing obsequiously to the grocer, said, “Shall I prepare you a coffin, Mr. Bloundel?—­you are sure to want one, and had better give the order in time, for there is a great demand for such articles just now.  If you like, I will call with it tomorrow night.  I have a plague-cart of my own, and bury all my customers.”

“God grant I may not require your services, sir!” replied the grocer, shuddering.  “But I will give you timely notice.”

“If you are in want of a nurse, I can recommend an experienced one,” added Chowles.  “Her last employer is just dead.”

“I may need assistance,” replied the grocer, after a moment’s reflection.  “Let her call to-morrow.”

“She understands her business perfectly, and will save you a world of trouble,” replied Chowles; “besides securing me the sale of another coffin,” he added to himself.

He then quitted the room with the searchers, and Leonard felt inexpressibly relieved by their departure.

As soon as the party gained the street, the fourth person, who was provided with materials for the task, painted a red cross of the prescribed size—­namely, a foot in length—­in the middle of the door; tracing above it, in large characters, the melancholy formula—­“LORD, HAVE MERCY UPON US!”