For a moment Tristan felt as if all the world about him was sinking into a dark bottomless pit.
Then, suppressing an outcry of anguish, his winged feet bore him across Rome towards the Basilica of St. John in Lateran.
[CHAPTER XIV]
THE PHANTOM OF THE LATERAN
It still lacked a few minutes of midnight when Tristan arrived at the Lateran. The guard had been set in all the chapels, as on the night when he had kept the watch before.
Without confiding his purpose to any one, he traversed the silent corridors until he came to the chapel where he was to watch all night.
The men-at-arms were posted outside the door. A lamp was burning in the corridor, and strict orders had been given that no person whatsoever was to pass into the chapel.
After assuring himself that all was secure, Tristan seated himself in a chair which stood in the centre of the chapel.
The place was dim and ghostly. A red lamp burnt before the Blessed Sacrament, and from the roof of the chapel hung another lamp of bronze. The light was turned low, but it threw a slight radiance upon portions of the mosaic of the floor.