he Preceptory at Dunwich. See, there are the same arms upon
the stone shield. Doubtless once the Knights Templar dwelt there. Sir
Andrew may have visited this place in his youth."

As the words left his lips two men came out of the gateway, one of them
a physician to judge by the robe and the case of medicines which he
carried; the other a very tall person wrapped in a long cloak. The
physician was speaking.

"She may live or she may die," he said. "She seems strong. The pest, you
say, has been on her for four days, which is longer than most endure it;
she has no swellings, and has not bled from the lungs; though, on the
other hand, she is now insensible, which often precedes the end. I can
say no more; it is in the hands of God. Yes, I will ask you to pay me
the fee now. Who knows if you will be alive to do so to-morrow? If she
dies before then I recommend you to throw her into the river, which the
Pope has blessed. It is cleaner burial than the plague pit. I presume
she is your grand-daughter--a beautiful woman. Pity she should be wasted
thus, but many others are in a like case. If she awakes give her good
food, and if you cannot get that--wine, of which there is plenty. Five
gold pieces--thank you," and he hurried away.

"Little have you told me, physician, that I did not know already," said
the tall hooded figure, in a deep voice the sound of which thrilled Hugh
to his marrow. "Yet you are right; it is in the hands of God. And to
those hands I trust--not in vain, I think."

"Sir," said Hugh addressing him out of the shadow in which he stood,
"be pleased to tell me, if you will, whether you have met in this town a
knight of the name of Sir Edmund Acour, for of him I am in search?"

"Sir Edmund Acour?" answered the figure. "No, I have not met him in
Avignon, though it is like enough that he is here. Yet I have known of
this knight far away in England."

"Was it at Blythburgh, in Suffolk, perchance?" asked Hugh.

"Ay, at Blythburgh in Suffolk; but who are you that speak in English and
know of Blythburgh in Suffolk?"

"Oh!" cried Hugh, "what do you here, Sir Andrew Arnold?"

The old man threw back his hood and stared at him.

"Hugh de Cressi, by Christ's holy Name!" he exclaimed. "Yes, and Richard
the archer, also. The light is bad; I did not see your faces. Welcome,
Hugh, thrice welcome," and he threw his arms about him and embraced him.
"Come, enter my lodgings, I have much to say to you."

"One thing I de