His head was protected by a long flowing grey wig, over which he wore a black velvet cap.

His shoulders were high and round, his back bent, and he evidently required support when he moved, as a crutch-headed staff was reared against his chair.

On his left was a young, handsome, and richly-attired gallant, answering to the apothecary's description of Hawkswood; and on the right sat a stout personage precisely habited like himself, except that he wore a broad-leaved hat, which completely overshadowed his features.
Notwithstanding this attempt at concealment, it was easy to perceive that Doctor Furbisher's face was covered with scars, that he had a rubicund nose, studded with carbuncles, and a black patch over his left eye.
"Is this the young man who desires to consult me ?" asked Doctor Calixtus Bottesham, in the cracked and quavering voice of old age, of Parkhurst.
"It is," replied the apothecary, respectfully.

"Go forward," he added to Blaize, "and speak for yourself." "What ails you ?" pursued Bottesham, gazing at him through his spectacles.

"You look strong and hearty." "So I am, learned sir," replied Blaize, bowing to the ground; "but understanding from Mr.Parkhurst that you have an infallible remedy against the plague, I would gladly procure it from you, as, if I should be attacked, I may not have an opportunity of consulting you." "Why not ?" demanded Bottesham.