So they returned, drew to the quays, and disembarked, unwitting yet
of worse discoveries awaiting them.
In the hospital Gunner Sobey, having dived into bed, with great
presence of mind fell asleep. The Vicar had fled the town by the
North, or Passage, Gate, and was by this time devouring a country
walk in long strides, heedless whither they led him, vainly
endeavouring to compose his thoughts and readjust his prophecies in
the light of the morning's events--a process which from time to time
compelled him to halt and hold his head between both hands.
The Major had slammed his front door, locked himself in his room, and
would give audience to no one.
It was in vain that the inhabitants besieged his porch, demanding to
know if the town were bewitched. Who had gutted their shops?
Why the causeways swam with strong liquor? How the churchyard came
to be full of cattle? What hand had fired Farmer Elford's ricks?
In short, what in the world had happened, and what was to be done?
They came contritely, conscious of their undeserving; but to each and
all Scipio, from the head of the steps, returned the same answer.
His master was indisposed.
Troy, ordinarily a busy town, did no business at all that day.
Tradesmen and workmen in small groups at every street-corner
discussed a mystery--or rather a series of mysteries--with which, as
they well knew, one man alone was competent to grapple.
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