'Before another week has passed,' was the reply, 'he will embark. He
would fain go forth'--a malicious smile was in the corner of
Leander's eye--'without leave-taking of his beloved people but
that can scarce be permitted.'
'Ere he return,' said Marcian, 'things of moment may happen.'
Again the deacon smiled. Seeing on the steps of the Pantheon a
couple of idlers playing at flash-finger, they turned aside to be
out of earshot.
'We are agreed, it seems,' remarked Leander quickly, 'that there is
hope of the heretic. You had news of him yesterday? I, also. It may
be in my power to render him some service--presently, presently.
Meanwhile, what can you tell me of the lost maiden about whom there
has been so much talk? Is it true that Bessas has sent her to the
East?'
Marcian turned his eyes upon the speaker's face, and regarded him
fixedly with a half smile. For a moment the deacon appeared to be
unconscious of this; then he met the familiar look, averted his head
again, and said in the same tone as before:
'The heretic, I learn, would gladly see her.
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