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Updated: May 21, 2025
Chowles laid his hand on his companion's arm, and strove to detain her, but she would not be stayed, and he was forced to proceed. Setting down the lamp on the stone floor, Judith passed into the subterranean church, where she beheld a sight that almost petrified her.
"No," replied Leonard; "neither are we come to reclaim the plunder you have taken from others. We are come in search of Nizza Macascree." "Then you have come on a fool's errand," replied Chowles, regaining his courage, "for she is not here. I know nothing of her." "That is false," replied Leonard. "You have just conducted Sir Paul Parravicin to her."
Chowles and Judith, then, for the first time, understood, from the confusion that ensued, and the exclamations uttered, that they were no spirits they had to deal with, but beings of the same mould as themselves.
"Shall we go forward?" said Chowles. Judith hesitated for a moment, and then assenting, they hurried towards the spot. "Can we give you any help, friend?" cried Chowles. "Take care of this," rejoined the baker, flinging a bag of money to the ground, "and I will endeavour to let down my wife and children. The staircase is on fire, and we are almost stifled with smoke. God help us!"
Some rumour of the masque having gone abroad, towards evening a crowd, chiefly composed of the most worthless order of society, collected under the portico at the western entrance, and the great doors being opened by Chowles, they entered the cathedral.
A glance showed him that this person was Chowles; and instantly comprehending what was the matter, and aware that the coffin-maker was stripping him previously to throwing him into the dead-cart, which was standing hard by, he cried aloud, and struggled desperately to set himself free.
Leonard followed as near as he could without exposing himself, and, on gaining the subterranean church, easily contrived to screen himself behind the ponderous ranks of pillars. By this time they had reached the door of the charnel It was closed; but Rochester knocked against it, and Chowles presently appeared.
Having done full justice to it, and disposed of the first flask, they were about to abandon themselves to unrestrained enjoyment, when their glee was all at once interrupted by a strange and unaccountable noise in the adjoining church. Chowles, who had just commenced chanting one of his wild melodies, suddenly stopped, and Judith set down the glass she had raised to her lips untested.
"The poor young man, I am informed," said Chowles, "threw himself into the Thames, and was picked up by a boat, and afterwards conveyed, in a dying state, to the pest-house in Finsbury Fields, where you will probably find him, if he is still alive." Mr. Bloundel heard no more. Quitting the cathedral, he hastened to Finsbury Fields, and sought out the building to which he had been directed.
Your companions must remain here." "Ay, stop with me and make yourselves comfortable," cried Chowles. "You are not so much used to these places as I am, I prefer a snug crypt, like this, to the best room in a tavern ha! ha!" Attended by Judith, Leonard Holt searched every corner of the subterranean church, except the vestry, the door of which was locked, and the key removed; but without success.
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