They stood in the cold dark of midnight on the streets of Paris, the Inquisitor and the Sister, their eyes set on Notre Dame. The train had made its slow and painful journey south to the capital without incident or delay. An hour and a half after leaving the train, they stood before the immense gothic Cathedral.
“Do we go in now?” asked Isabella.
“No, we’ll never gain access at this hour, at least not quietly. It’ll all be locked. We wait until morning. First thing. Mass is at eleven. We have plenty of time to take Poré before he causes any more trouble.”
Isabella nodded and surreptitiously moved a little closer to the Inquisitor.
“So, any ideas where are we staying tonight? You usually have something up your sleeve.”
“I know somewhere, but you might not like it.”
Isabella laughed and pulled her shawl tight around her shoulders. “Tacit, it’s fine,” turning her large brown eyes onto him. “After a week with you, I’m learning to lower my expectations.”