George - the attendant referred to - joined the
knight, and leaving his horse in his care, Sir Norman entered the
shop, and encountered the spectral proprietor at the door.
"What of my friend?" was his eager inquiry. "Has he yet shown
signs of returning consciousness?"
"Alas, no!" replied the apothecary, with a groan, that came
wailing up like a whistle; "he was so excessively dead, that
there was no use keeping him; and as the room was wanted for
other purposes, I - pray, my dear sir, don't look so violent - I
put him in the pest-cart and had him buried."
"In the plague-pit!" shouted Sir Norman, making a spring at him;
but the man darted off like a ghostly flash into the inner room,
and closed and bolted the door in a twinkling.
Sir Norman kicked at it spitefully, but it resisted his every
effort; and, overcoming a strong temptation to smash every bottle
in the shop, he sprang once more into the saddle, and rode off to
the plague-pit. It was the second time within the last twelve
hours he had stood there; and, on the previous occasion, he who
now lay in it, had stood by his side. He looked down, sickened
and horror-struck.
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