The keen eyes below the bandage, smiled assent.
Stooping, the Knight lifted the cloak, fastened it to his left shoulder, and drew it around him, holding the greater part of it in many folds in his right hand. Then he moved back into the shadow of the pillar.
Above, the monks sang Nunc Dimittis.
By and by the voices fell silent.
Vespers were over.
Careful, shuffling feet were coming down the stairs within the wall.
One by one the white figures reappeared.
The Knight stood back, rigid, holding his breath.
As each nun stepped from the archway in the wall, on to the floor of the crypt, and moved toward the steps leading down to the subterranean way, she passed from the view of the nun following her, who was still one turn up the staircase. It was upon this the Knight had counted, when he laid his plains.
Six
Seven
Eight