And wrapping his
cloak close about him, he leaned against the doorway, and,
watching the dancing lights on the river, prepared to await the
return of La Masque.
With his head full of the adventures and misadventures of the
night, Sir Norman walked thoughtfully on until he reached the
King's Arms - a low inn on the bank of the river. To his dismay
he found the house shut up, and bearing the dismal mark and
inscription of the pestilence. While he stood contemplating it
in perplexity, a watchman, on guard before another plague-
stricken house, advanced and informed him that the whole family
had perished of the disease, and that the landlord himself, the
last survivor, had been carried off not twenty minutes before to
the plague-pit.
"But," added the man, seeing Sir Norman's look of annoyance, and
being informed what he wanted, "there are two or three horses
around there in the stable, and you may as well help yourself,
for if you don't take them, somebody else will."
This philosophic logic struck Sir Norman as being so extremely
reasonable, that without more ado he stepped round to the stables
and selected the best it contained.
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