“How did it happen?”
Now they all stood round him and all talked at once. A curious, old-fashioned lady bowed suddenly in the middle of the road.
“With your kind permission, I am Amalia Csik. I am entitled to speak. They only heard it from me. You may remember I live on the Fisherman’s bastion. Last night my husband felt unwell, because we hid in the cellar. The air was bad. So I went up into our rooms for some medicine.”
The builder turned painfully towards the door of the shop. The people stood in his way.
“Hurry up,” whispered the chaplain. The lady went on talking all the faster.
“Pray imagine, I saw the whole thing from my window. Someone lit a fire on the bastion. I recognised him at once: the clockmaker. I saw his face, the flame just lit it up. Then a shot rang out. And the clockmaker fell to the ground near the wall.”
Christopher’s heart contracted in anguish. His eyes reddened as if smoke stung them. “Poor Brother Sebastian ...” and he could not help thinking of Anne.
The lady sighed deeply.
“You may imagine I was frightened out of my wits. I flew back to the cellar. There my husband explained everything. His reverence the chaplain knows it too, so do the others; it is they who broke into the shop after the siege.”
The builder started again towards the shop.