“Thank Heaven he is not here!” he exclaimed to his conductor.

“You have not seen the dead bodies in the outhouse,” returned the other; “it is possible his may be among them.”

“I trust not,” rejoined the grocer, shuddering; “but as I have gone thus far, I will not leave my errand unaccomplished.  Suffer me to look at them.”

The chirurgeon then led the way to a spacious outbuilding, once used for cattle, in the midst of which stood a large frame supporting six bodies, covered only with a sheet.  Mr. Bloundel could not overcome his repugnance to enter this shed; but the chirurgeon, who appeared habituated to such scenes, and to regard them lightly, threw off the sheet, and raised the corpses, one by one, that he might the better view them.  One peculiarity Mr. Bloundel noticed; namely, that the limbs of these unfortunate victims of the pestilence did not stiffen, as would have been the case if they had died of any other disorder; while the blotches that appeared on the livid flesh made them objects almost too horrible to look upon.  In many cases the features were frightfully distorted—­the tongues of the poor wretches swollen and protruding—­the hands clenched, and the toes bent towards the soles of the feet.  Everything denoted the dreadful pangs that must have attended dissolution.

Greatly relieved to find that the whole of this ghastly group were strangers to him, Mr. Bloundel thanked the chirurgeon, and departed.  Convinced that he had been deceived by the coffin-maker, he now began to hope that the whole story was false; but he determined not to rest till he had thoroughly investigated the matter.  Before doing so, however, he thought it advisable to return home, and accordingly shaped his course toward Cripplegate, and, passing through the postern, stopped at an apothecary’s shop, and got his apparel fumigated and sprinkled with spirits of hartshorn and sulphur.

On reaching Wood-street, he noticed, with some uneasiness, a number of persons gathered together before his dwelling.  His fears were speedily relieved by finding that the assemblage was collected by a preacher, who was pronouncing an exhortation to them in tones almost as loud and emphatic as those of Solomon Eagle.  The preacher’s appearance was very remarkable, and attracted the attention of the grocer, who joined the crowd to listen to him.  As far as could be judged, he was a middle-aged man, with black hair floating over his shoulders, earnest features, and a grey eye of extraordinary brilliancy.  His figure was slight and erect, and his gestures as impassioned as his looks.  He spoke with great rapidity; and his eloquence, combined with his fervent manner and expression, completely entranced his audience.  He was habited in a cassock and bands, and had taken off his cap, which was held by an attendant, who stood near the stool on which he was mounted.  The latter differed materially from his master.  His closely-cropped hair, demure looks, sugar-loaf hat, and suit of rusty sable, seemed to proclaim him a Puritan; but his twinkling eye—­for he had but one, and wore a black patch over the orifice—­his inflamed cheeks, and mulberry nose contradicted the idea.