true cause and cure of the plague. Mars, good fellow, had fought
for us to the uttermost. Faint though he had been in the Heavens, and
this had made me overlook him in my computations, he more than any of
the other planets had kept the Heavens--which is to say, had been
visible some part of each night wellnigh throughout the year. Therefore
his fierce and cleansing influence, warring against the Moon, had
stretched out to kill those three rats under my nose, and under the nose
of their natural mistress, the Moon. I had known Mars lean half across
Heaven to deal our Lady the Moon some shrewd blow from under his shield,
but I had never before seen his strength displayed so effectual.'

'I don't understand a bit. Do you mean Mars killed the rats because he
hated the Moon?' said Una.

'_That_ is as plain as the pikestaff with which Blagge's men pushed me
forth,' Mr. Culpeper answered. 'I'll prove it. Why had the plague not
broken out at the blacksmith's shop in Munday's Lane? Because, as I've
shown you, forges and smithies belong naturally to Mars, and, for his
honour's sake, Mars 'ud keep 'em clean from the creatures of the Moon.
But was it like, think you, that he'd come down and rat-catch in general
for lazy, ungrateful mankind? That were working a willing horse to
death. So then you can see that the meaning of the blazing star above
him when he set was simply this: "Destroy and burn the creatures of the
Moon, for they are at the root of your trouble. And thus, having shown
you a taste of my power, good people, adieu."'

'Did Mars really say all that?' Una whispered.

'Yes, and twice so much as that to any one who had ears to hear.
Briefly, he enlightened me that the plague was spread by the creatures
of the Moon. The Moon, our Lady of Ill-aspect, was the offender. My own
poor wits showed me that I, Nick Culpeper, had the people in my charge,
God's good providence aiding me, and no time to lose neither.

'I posted up the hill, and broke into Hitheram's field amongst 'em all
at prayers.

'"Eureka, good people!" I cried, and cast down a dead mill-rat which I'd
found. "Here's your true enemy, revealed at last by the stars."

'"Nay, but I'm praying," says Jack. His face was as white as washed
silver.

'"There's a time for everything under the sun," says I. "If you would
stay the plague, take and kill your rats."

'"Oh, mad, stark mad!" says he, and wrings his hands.

'A fellow lay in the ditch beside him, who bel