He could hear a muleteer shouting at his beasts on the bridge as he crossed the Calle Don Jaime I.The streets were quiet enough otherwise, and the watchman of this quarter could be heard far away at the corner of the Plaza de la Constitucion calling to the gods that the weather was serene.
Evasio Mon, cloaked to the eyes against the autumn night, hurried down the Calle San Gregorio and turned into an open doorway that led into the patio of a great four-sided house.

He climbed the stone stair and knocked at a door, which was instantly opened.
"Come!" said the man who opened it--a white-haired priest of benevolent face.

"He is conscious.

He asks for a notary.

He is dying! I thought you--" "No," replied Mon quickly.