Tristan's eyes met those of the other.
"My lord, this is unworthy of you! I have never committed a deed I dared not confess—and I despise your threat and your accusation as would the Lady Hellayne, were she here."
Steps were heard approaching from the direction of the pavilion.
"I am a stranger in Rome. Doubtless you are familiar with its ways. Some one is coming. Where shall we meet?"
Tristan pondered.
"At the Arch of the Seven Candles. Every child can point the way. When shall it be?"
"To-morrow,—at the second hour of the night. And take care to speak the truth!"
Ere Tristan could reply the speaker had vanished among the thickets.
For a moment he paused, amazed, bewildered. Roger de Laval in Rome! And Hellayne—where was she? She had left Avalon—had left her consort. Had she entered a convent? Hellayne—where was Hellayne?
Before this dreadful uncertainty all the events of the night vanished as if they had never been.