tting a horse?"

"At the King's Arms--but a stones throw from here. Farewell."

"Good-night, and God speed you!" said Ormiston. And wrapping his cloak
close about him, he leaned against the doorway, and, watching the
dancing lights on the river, prepared to await the return of La Masque.

With his head full of the adventures and misadventures of the night, Sir
Norman walked thoughtfully on until he reached the King's Arms--a low
inn on the bank of the river. To his dismay he found the house shut up,
and bearing the dismal mark and inscription of the pestilence. While
he stood contemplating it in perplexity, a watchman, on guard before
another plague-stricken house, advanced and informed him that the whole
family had perished of the disease, and that the landlord himself, the
last survivor, had been carried off not twenty minutes before to the
plague-pit.

"But," added the man, seeing Sir Norman's look of annoyance, and being
informed what he wanted, "there are two or three horses around there
in the stable, and you may as well help yourself, for if you don't take
them, somebody else will."

This philosophic logic struck Sir Norman as being so extremely
reasonable, that without more ado he stepped round to the stables and
selected the best it contained. Before proceeding on his journey, it
occurred to him that, having been handling a plague-patient, it would
be a good thing to get his clothes fumigated; so he stepped into an
apothecary's store for that purpose, and provided himself also with
a bottle of aromatic vinegar. Thus prepared for the worst, Sir Norman
sprang on his horse like a second Don Quixote striding his good steed
Rozinante, and sallied forth in quest of adventures. These, for a short
time, were of rather a dismal character; for, hearing the noise of
a horse's hoofs in the silent streets at that hour of the night, the
people opened their doors as he passed by, thinking it the pest-cart,
and brought forth many a miserable victim of the pestilence. Averting
his head from the revolting spectacles, Sir Norman held the bottle of
vinegar to his nostrils, and rode rapidly till he reached Newgate. There
he was stopped until his bill of health was examined, and that small
manuscript being found all right, he was permitted to pass on in peace.
Everywhere he went, the trail of the serpent was visible over all. Death
and Desolation went hand in hand. Outside as well as inside the gates,
great piles of wood and co