Who was it came at such an hour?
What could any man seek in the Church of San Domenico at dead of night?
Was the church indeed their goal, or were they but passers-by?
That last question went not long unanswered.

The steps came nearer, whilst I stood appalled, my skin roughening like a dog's.

They halted at the door.

Something heavy hurtled against it.
A voice, the voice of Ramiro del' Orca--I knew it upon the instant--reached my ears which concentration had rendered superacute.
"It is locked, Baldassare.

Get out those tools of yours and force it." My wits were working now at fever-pace.