saying, he ran swiftly down the hill, and, followed by the others,
did not slacken his pace till they reached the city. They then shaped
their course more slowly towards Saint Paul's, and having gained the
precincts of the cathedral, Solomon Eagle, who now assumed the place of
leader, conducted them to a small door on the left of the great northern
entrance, and unlocking it, ushered them into a narrow passage behind
the rich carved work of the choir. Traversing it, they crossed the mid
aisle, and soon reached the steps leading to Saint Faith's. It was
profoundly dark, but they were all well acquainted with the road, and
did not miss their footing. It required, however, some caution to thread
the ranks of the mighty pillars filling the subterranean church. But at
last this was accomplished, and they entered the vault beyond the
charnel, where they found Chowles and Judith Malmayns. The former was
wrapped in a long black cloak, and was pacing to and fro within the
narrow chamber. When Solomon Eagle appeared, he sprang towards him, and
regarding him inquiringly, cried, "Have you done it?--have you done it?"

The enthusiast replied in the affirmative. "Heaven be praised!"
exclaimed Chowles. And he skipped about with the wildest expressions of
delight. A gleam of satisfaction, too, darted from Judith's savage eyes.
She had neither risen nor altered her position on the arrival of the
party, but she now got up, and addressed the enthusiast. A small iron
lamp, suspended by a chain from the vaulted roof, lighted the chamber.
The most noticeable figure amidst the group was that of Solomon Eagle,
who, with his blazing eyes, long jet-black locks, giant frame, and tawny
skin, looked like a supernatural being. Near him stood the person
designated as Robert Hubert. He was a young man, and appeared to have
lived a life of great austerity. His features were thin; his large black
eyes set in deep caverns; his limbs seemed almost destitute of flesh;
and his looks wild and uncertain, like those of an insane person. His
tattered and threadbare garb resembled that of a French ecclesiastic.
The third person, who went by the name of Philip Grant, had a powerful
frame, though somewhat bent, and a haughty deportment and look, greatly
at variance with his miserable attire and haggard looks. His beard was
long and grizzled, and his features, though sharpened by care, retained
some traces of a noble expression. A few minutes having passed in
conve