So they entered and began to search the house by the dim light of the moon. First they searched the lower chambers, then those where Hugh’s father and his brothers had slept, and lastly the attics. Here they found the pallets of the serving-folk upon the floor, but none at rest upon them.
“The house is deserted,” said Hugh heavily.
“Yes, yes,” answered Dick again, in a cheerful voice; “doubtless Master de Cressi and your brothers have moved away to escape the pest.”
“Pray God they have escaped it!” muttered Hugh. “This place stifles me,” he added. “Let us out.”
“Whither shall we go, master?”
“To Blythburgh Manor,” he answered, “for there I may win tidings. David, bide you here, and if you can learn aught follow us across the moor. The manor cannot be missed.”
So once more Hugh and Dick mounted their horses and rode away through the town, stopping now and again before some house they knew and calling to its inmates. But though they called loudly none answered. Soon they grew sure that this was because there were none to answer, since of those houses many of the doors stood open. Only one living creature did they see in Dunwich. As they turned the corner near to the Blythburgh Gate they met a grey-haired man wrapped up in tattered blankets which were tied about him with haybands. He carried in his hand a beautiful flagon of silver. Doubtless he had stolen it from some church.
Seeing them, he cast this flagon into the snow and began to whimper like a dog.
“Mad Tom,” said Dick, recognizing the poor fellow. “Tell us, Thomas, where are the folk of Dunwich?”
“Dead, dead; all dead!” he wailed, and fled away.