“Whither go you, sir?” asked David as he walked forward alongside of the horses.
“To seek that house where we saw Sir Andrew Arnold and the lady Eve,” answered Hugh, “if by any chance it can be found.”
“That is easy, sir,” said David. “As it happens, I passed it not much more than an hour ago and knew it again.”
“Did you see any one there?” asked Hugh eagerly.
“Nay, the windows were dark. Also the Jew guiding me said he had heard that all who dwelt in that house were dead of the plague. Still of this matter he knew nothing for certain.”
Hugh groaned, but only answered:
“Forward!”
As they went David told them his story. It seemed that when he was struck down in the square where the crazy friar preached, and like to be stabbed and trampled to death, some of the Jews dragged him into the shadow and rescued him. Afterward they took him to a horrid and squalid quarter called La Juiverie, into which no Christian dare enter. Here he lay sick of his hurts and unable to get out until that very afternoon; the widow Rebecca, whom they had saved, nursing him all the while.
“Did you hear aught of us?” asked Dick.
“Ay, at first that you were holding Dead Bride’s Tower bravely. So as soon as I might, I came to join you there if I could win in and you still lived. But they told me that you had fallen at last.”