Jean paced up and down the stone corridor, looking out of the window into the Platz.
"He has come," she said excitedly, appearing at Lucy's door.

"He went into the church first, to say an ave for help, poor little man! His fat face is quite pale and stern.

It is a matter of life and death to him.

And it's no more to you than the choosing of a new coat." Lucy smiled and sketched in a priest on the church steps.

Her hand shook, but Jean could not see that.