"Have you seen the Lord Basil?"-- "He was much concerned, examined the place in person, but found no clue." "Are your men trustworthy?" "I know not, Father! For a slight service I chanced to do the Lord Alberic he made me captain of the guard in place of one who had incurred his displeasure. My men are Swiss and Lombards, a Spaniard or two--some Calabrians--no Romans." "Therein lies your salvation," interposed the Benedictine. "How many guard this tomb?" "Some four score men--why do you ask?" "I hardly know--save that there lurks some dark mystery behind the curtain. Let no man--nor woman--relax your watchfulness. There are tempests that destroy even the cedars of Lebanon," the monk continued with meaning. "And such a one may burst one night." "Your words are dark, Father, and fill me with misgivings." "And well they should," Odo interposed with a penetrating glance at the young captain. "For rumor hath it that another bird has strayed into the Lady Theodora's bower--" Tristan colored under the monk's scrutiny. "I was present at her feast. Yet I know not how I got there!" The monk looked puzzled. "Now that you have crossed the dark path of Marozia's sister I fear the ambushed gorge and the black arrow that sings from the hidden depths. Why seek the dark waters of Satan, when the white walls of Christ rise luminously before you?" "What is the import of these strange words so strangely uttered?" Tristan turned to the monk with a puzzled air. "That shall be made known to you in time. Treason lurks everywhere. Seal your ears against the Siren's song. Some say she is a vampire returned to earth, doomed to live on, as long as men are base enough to barter their soul for her kisses. And yet--how much longer? The Millennium draws nigh. The End of Time is near." There was a pause. Tristan tried to speak, but the words would not come from his lips. At last with an effort he stammered: "At the risk of incurring your censure, Father--even to the palace of Theodora must I wend my steps to recover that which is my own." And he informed the Monk of Cluny how he had lost his poniard and his scarf of blue Samite. "Why not send one you trust to fetch them back?" protested the monk. "It is not well to brave the peril twice." "Myself must I go, Father. For once and all time I mean to break her spell." "Deem you to accomplish that which no man hath--and live?" "There is that which shall keep my honor inviolate," Tristan replied. The cloudless sky was shot with dreamy stars, and cooling breezes were wafted over the Roman Campagna. Through the stillness came the muffled challenges of the guard. The twain crossed the ramparts of the Mausoleum in silence, holding to their way which led towards a postern, when suddenly, out of the battlements' embrazure, peered two gray, ghastly faces, which disappeared as suddenly. But Tristan's quick eye had marked them and, plucking at the monk's sleeve, he whispered: