I found him at the door, in talk with the confessor of the Bishop.
"And so," he was saying, "this girl was reared in the executioner's house.

And she went away to a far country in order to learn the secrets of necromancy, it is not known where.

I would see this Duke's Justicer.
Does he dwell near by?
What! In that very tower?
It is of good omen.

Let us go in thither." But the confessor excused himself, being in no wise desirous to visit the Red Axe, even in his time of sickness.
"I have business of the soul with Bishop Peter.

I will speak with thee again at refection," he said, twitching his head up at the Red Tower with suspicious glances, as if he feared unseen ears might be listening, and that some of its fearful magic might even descend upon a man so notably holy as a Bishop's confessor.
Presently Dessauer and I were across the court-yard at the well-known door.