In the darkness of London's lights, transfixed with terror and despair, the undaunted plague doctors struggled on. Their black robes, like the death-strip on the throat of the infernal cauldron, bore witness to the inexorable power to deal with this terrible affliction. They picked their way among the cluster of bodies, searching for the last signs of hope. Their eyes, charred from battle, sought salvation in the fathomless depths of each lost soul. The plague, whispering its stories in the streets of London, left traces of death at every turn.