d. It was he who had drugged Red Eve and read
the mass of marriage over her while she was drugged.

"Who are you?" asked Murgh in his light, cold voice. "By your shaven
head a priest, I think--one who serves some God of love and mercy. And
yet you come upon this ill errand as a captain of assassins. Why do you
seek to do murder, O Priest of the God of mercy?"

Now some power seemed to drag the answer from Father Nicholas.

"Because I must," he said. "I have sold myself and must pay the price.
Step leads to step, and he who runs may not stop upon them."

"No, priest Nicholas, since ever they grow more narrow and more steep.
Yet at the foot of them is the dark abyss, and, Murderer Nicholas, you
have reached the last of all your steps. Look at me!" and with one hand
he threw back the hood.

Next instant they saw Nicholas rush staggering down the street,
screaming with terror as he went. Then, as all the bravoes had gone,
they continued their march, filled with reflections, till they came
to the little landing-stage where they had left the boat. It was still
there though the boatman had gone.

"Let us borrow this boat," said Murgh. "As from my study of the map I
know these water-paths, I will be steersman and that tongue-tied lad
shall row and tell me if I go wrong. First I will take you to the house
where I think you said you lodged, and thence to go seek friends of my
own in this city who will show me hospitality."

They glided on down the long canals in utter silence that was broken
only by the soft dipping of the oars. The night was somewhat cooler now,
for the bursting of the great meteor seemed to have cleared the air. Or
perhaps the gentle breeze that had sprung up, blowing from the open sea,
tempered its stifling heat.

So it came about that although it grew late many people were gathered
on the _rivas_ or on the balconies of the fine houses which they passed,
for the most part doubtless discussing the travelling star that had
been seen in the sky. Or perhaps they had already heard rumours of the
strange visitor who had come to Venice, although, however fast such news
may fly, this seemed scarcely probable. At the least there they were,
men and women, talking earnestly together, and about them the three
Englishmen noted a strange thing.

As their boat slipped by, some influence seemed to pass from it to the
minds of all these people. Their talk died out, and was succeeded by
a morne and heavy silence. They