"Is my presence here not proof enough?"
The argument prevailed.
"To our business then!" Benilo replied guardedly, seating himself upon a fragment of granite and watching every gesture of the bravo.
"There arrived to-day in Rome, Eckhardt the general. His welfare is very dear to me! I should be disconsolate came he to harm in the exercise of his mission, whatever that be!"
There was a brief pause during which their eyes met.
The outlaw's face twitched strangely. Or was it the play of the moonbeams?
"Being given to roaming at random round the city," Benilo continued, speaking very slowly as if to aid the bravo's comprehension, "for such is their wont in their own wildernesses,—I am fearful he might go astray,—and the Roman temper is uncertain. Yet is Eckhardt so fearless, that he would scorn alike warning or precaution. Therefore I would have you dog his footsteps from afar,—but let him not suspect your presence, if you wish to see the light of another morning. Wear your monk's habit, it becomes you! You look as lean and hungry and wolfish as a hermit of twelve years' halo, who feeds on wild roots and snails. But to me you will each day report the points of interest, which the German leader has visited, that I too may become familiar with their attraction. Do I speak plainly?"
"I will follow him as his shadow," gurgled the bravo.
Benilo held out a purse which John of the Catacombs greedily devoured with his eyes.
"You are a greedy knave," he said at last with a forced laugh. "But since you love gold so dearly, you shall feast your eyes on it till they tire of its sheen. Be ready at my first call and remember—secrecy and despatch!"