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- Колин Маккалоу
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"
Yes
,
but
that
is
n't
what
the
matter
is
.
"
His
grace
picked
up
the
flashlight
.
"
Well
,
you
ca
n't
stay
here
all
night
,
and
I
have
n't
got
a
key
to
the
doors
.
Come
with
me
.
"
He
began
walking
back
toward
the
private
stairs
leading
up
to
the
papal
palace
,
talking
in
a
slow
,
soft
voice
.
"
I
came
to
pray
myself
,
as
a
matter
of
fact
.
Thanks
to
your
High
Command
,
it
's
been
a
rather
nasty
day
.
That
's
it
,
up
here
...
We
'll
have
to
hope
that
the
Holy
Father
's
staff
do
n't
assume
I
've
been
arrested
,
but
can
see
I
'm
doing
the
escorting
,
not
you
.
"
After
that
they
walked
for
ten
more
minutes
in
silence
,
through
corridors
,
out
into
open
courts
and
gardens
,
inside
hallways
,
up
steps
;
the
young
German
did
not
seem
anxious
to
leave
his
protector
's
side
,
for
he
kept
close
.
At
last
His
Grace
opened
a
door
and
led
his
waif
into
a
small
sitting
room
,
sparsely
and
humbly
furnished
,
switched
on
a
lamp
and
closed
the
door
.
They
stood
staring
at
each
other
,
able
to
see
.
The
German
soldier
saw
a
very
tall
man
with
a
fine
face
and
blue
,
discerning
eyes
;
Archbishop
Ralph
saw
a
child
tricked
out
in
the
garb
which
all
of
Europe
found
fearsome
and
awe-inspiring
.
A
child
;
no
more
than
sixteen
years
old
,
certainly
.
Of
average
height
and
youthfully
thin
,
he
had
a
frame
promising
later
bulk
and
strength
,
and
very
long
arms
.
His
face
had
rather
an
Italianate
cast
,
dark
and
patrician
,
extremely
attractive
;
wide
,
dark
brown
eyes
with
long
black
lashes
,
a
magnificent
head
of
wavy
black
hair
.
There
was
nothing
usual
or
ordinary
about
him
after
all
,
even
if
his
role
was
an
ordinary
one
;
in
spite
of
the
fact
that
he
had
longed
to
talk
to
an
average
,
ordinary
man
,
His
Grace
was
interested
.
"
Sit
down
,
"
he
said
to
the
boy
,
crossing
to
a
chest
and
unearthing
a
bottle
of
Marsala
wine
.
He
poured
some
into
two
glasses
,
gave
the
boy
one
and
took
his
own
to
a
chair
from
which
he
could
watch
the
fascinating
countenance
comfortably
.
"
Are
they
reduced
to
drafting
children
to
do
their
fighting
?
"
he
asked
,
crossing
his
legs
.
"
I
do
n't
know
,
"
said
the
boy
.
"
I
was
in
a
children
's
home
,
so
I
'd
be
taken
early
anyway
.
"
"
What
's
your
name
,
lad
?
"
"
Rainer
Moerling
Hartheim
,
"
said
the
boy
,
rolling
it
out
with
great
pride
.
"
A
magnificent
name
,
"
said
the
priest
gravely
.
