They had not been thus engaged five minutes, when suddenly a door just behind the seat of judgment opened, and the friar, Father Peter, entered, looking eagerly round. The wit and the jest ceased instantly, and the men looked at him in silence, with no very loving aspect. None had any tangible cause of dislike; but men have antipathies instinctive, deeply seated, not to be resisted. With his still noiseless step Mardocchi advanced, stepped down, and asked where Ramiro d'Orco was. They told him that their lord had gone forth by the Ravenna gate, and his countenance fell. He said little, however, for he was very careful of his words; and, after having gazed at the murderer--the only one who seemed to take no notice of him--he withdrew by the great door. At the head of the staircase he paused and meditated for several minutes, then descended into the court and sought the great gates. He there halted again, and muttered to himself-- "Well, no matter? It may be as well that at first there should seem no suspicion. It will look more natural. Slight causes at first, and then graver doubts, and then formal inquiries, and then damning proofs. That were the best course. But this Signor d'Orco of mine is so thirsty for his blood, it has been difficult to restrain him hitherto, and he may hurry on too fiercely. As well he should not know the thing till night. She will be dead by two; by five or six they will be home, and in the interval between I shall have time to prepare the public mind for the tale of poison--without hinting at her husband, however. Let that come afterwards." But Mardocchi's plans were destined to be disappointed, in part at least. He was not allowed time to prepare the public mind, as he proposed; for though, from a vulgar assassin, he had risen by skill and assiduous study to be something like a politician, and his schemes were often deep and well laid, yet the finest politicians must often be the slaves of circumstances, and sometimes their own cupidity frustrates their best devised projects. Friar Peter reached what was called the little piazza, and stopped for a moment to speak with one of the Roman gentlemen who had followed Eloise Visconti to Imola. The nobleman asked the monk several questions in a low voice. "I really know not what is the lady's malady," said Mardocchi at length, following out his purpose; "I should say it is the effect of a slow poison, but that I know no one has any cause to put her out of the way." "Be not too sure of that," replied the other; "she left us in a very sudden way to-day, and the servants told us, retired to her room ill. But as to causes, I could tell you what I overheard, just before she fainted last night. Hark, you, friar!" But before he could add more, a man in a dusty dress came up and took Mardocchi by the arm, saying, "I wish to speak with you in private, father."