with
this, he knocked at the great northern entrance till the summons was
answered by a verger, and stating his object, demanded to be admitted,
and to search the cathedral, as well as Saint Faith's. The verger
offered no objection, and having examined the old building throughout,
without discovering any traces of the person he was in quest of, Leonard
quitted it.

More than ever convinced that he was right in his supposition, and that
no danger was to be apprehended, he was about to return home, when the
idea occurred to him that he might perhaps find Grant at the plague-pit
in Finsbury Fields, and he accordingly shaped his course thither. A long
period had elapsed since he had last visited the melancholy spot, and it
was not without much painful emotion that he drew near the vast mound
covering the victims of the pestilence. But Grant was not there, and
though he paced round and round the dreary inclosure for some time, no
one came. He then proceeded to the lesser plague-pit, and kneeling
beside the grave of Amabel, bedewed it with his tears.

As he arose, with the intention of returning to Wood Street, he observed
an extraordinary light in the sky a little to the left, evidently
produced by the reflection of a great fire in that direction. On
beholding this light, he said to himself, "Mr. Bloundel was right. This
is the danger with which the city is threatened. It is now too late to
avert it." Determined, however, to ascertain the extent of the calamity
without an instant's loss of time, he set off at a swift pace, and in
less than half an hour reached Fish Street Hill, and stood beside the
conflagration. It was then nearly three o'clock, and a vast chasm of
blackening ruins proclaimed the devastation that had been committed.
Just as he arrived, the roof of Saint Margaret's fell in with a
tremendous crash, and for a few minutes the fire was subdued. It then
arose with greater fury than ever; burst out on both sides of the sacred
structure, and caught the line of houses leading towards London Bridge.
The first house was that of a vintner; and the lower part of the
premises--the cellars and vaults--were filled with wine and spirits.
These instantly blazed up, and burnt with such intensity that the
adjoining habitation was presently in flames.

"I know who hath done all this!" exclaimed Leonard, half involuntarily,
as he gazed on the work of destruction.

"Indeed!" exclaimed a bystander, gazing at him. "Who is it?-