Head down, the killer plunged at the taller priest's throat.

He recognized the tall priest with the deep green eyes and was, oddly, not surprised to see him again.

Whoever was the tall priest, there could be no doubt about the identity of the short one.

But something in the very silence of the tall priest made him stop until the latter spoke.

Slowly the tall priest rose and reached for his rod.

The tall priest turned to look at the old man, and suddenly understood.

The tall priest stood at the entrance, his attention on the disturbance in the street.

He glanced at the tall priest, whose eyes were downcast.

"Then she will suffer, and it is your doing," said the tall priest.

The taller priest laid a single flat stone on her belly.