Before proceeding on his
journey, it occurred to him that, having been handling a plague-
patient, it would be a good thing to get his clothes fumigated;
so he stepped into an apothecary's store for that purpose, and
provided himself also with a bottle of aromatic vinegar. Thus
prepared for the worst, Sir Norman sprang on his horse like a
second Don Quixote striding his good steed Rozinante, and sallied
forth in quest of adventures. These, for a short time, were of
rather a dismal character; for, hearing the noise of a horse's
hoofs in the silent streets at that hour of the night, the people
opened their doors as he passed by, thinking it the pest-cart,
and brought forth many a miserable victim of the pestilence.
Averting his head from the revolting spectacles, Sir Norman held
the bottle of vinegar to his nostrils, and rode rapidly till he
reached Newgate. There he was stopped until his bill of health
was examined, and that small manuscript being found all right, he
was permitted to pass on in peace. Everywhere he went, the trail
of the serpent was visible over all. Death and Desolation went
hand in hand. Outside as well as inside the gates, great piles
of wood and coal were arranged, waiting only the midnight hour to
be fired.
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