Lycabetta whispered in his ear:
“Listen; this morning in the flower-market my Lysidice noted a hooded friar who bought white roses. A wind stirred his cowl and she saw the face of Diogenes.”
Hildebrand started.
“Was she sure?”
“’Tis no face to forget,” Lycabetta answered; “though she swears it less frightful than of old. She made no sign, but she bribed a child to follow the false friar, and the brat ran him to earth here.”
Hildebrand grinned savagely.
“If they be here, no fable of the plague shall save them this time.”
Lycabetta caught him eagerly by the arm and drew him behind a concealing pillar. She had seen the sea-door open and had seen a figure in a friar’s gown.
“Who is this?” she whispered triumphantly to Hildebrand.
Robert came through the sea-door. Inside the church he threw back his hood and his face was plainly visible to the watchers, themselves invisible, screened by the pillars and the gloom. Hildebrand pressed Lycabetta’s hand significantly. He had seen all he wanted to see. The pair slipped quietly out by the door through which they had entered. Robert advanced slowly to the altar and flung himself on the steps.