"But how about the Romans? Can they be depended upon?"
"I move them at the raising of my hand!"
There was another pause.
Crescentius appeared strangely abstracted.
"But what of Otto? What of Eckhardt? Do they scent the wind from Castel San Angelo?"
"As for the Saxon cherub," Benilo replied with a disgusting smile, "he is dreaming of his—"
He did not finish the sentence, for Crescentius cast such a terrible look upon him, that the blood froze in the traitor's veins, and his eyes sank before those blazing upon him. After a moment's hesitation he continued, the shadow of a forced smile hovering round his thin, quivering lips:
"When he is dead, we shall cause the Wonder-child to be canonized!"
But Crescentius was in no jocular mood.
"Have you chosen your men?" he queried curtly.