They walked about and looked at the objects placed along the wall: Roman sepulchral monuments, pieces of sarcophagi, a headless draped figure, the dorsal vertebra of a whale, and a series of architectural details.
On all the objects of interest there were fresh traces of the masons’ brushes.
By now they had come back to their starting point.
Tage ran up the stairs to see if there might not be people somewhere in the house, and Mrs. Fonss in the meantime walked up and down the arcade.
As she was on the turn toward the gate a tall man with a bearded, tanned face, appeared at the end of the passage directly in front of her. He had a guide-book in his hand; he listened for something, and then looked forward, straight at her.
The Englishman of yesterday immediately came to her mind.
“Pardon me?” he began interrogatively, and bowed.
“I am a stranger,” Mrs. Fonss replied, “nobody seems to be at home, but my son has just run upstairs to see whether....”
These words were exchanged in French.
At this moment Tage arrived. “I have been everywhere,” he said, “even in the living quarters, but didn’t find as much as a cat.”