Horrors abounded in every passageway as each turn could bring a vision of a poor woman running from her screaming plague-infested son or a bloated corpse of a rich man whose mouth lolled open, showing gaps where someone had pried out a few golden teeth. At the sound of the door Ann Veronica uncovered a tearless face, and with one swift movement assumed a conversational attitude. She tried gentle words with him, beguiling perfumes, even slipped aphrodisiac tisanes into his soup. Anna watched her from the windows, watched the carriage jolt away along the cobbled street and disappear. Hearing a noise below, Quilt called out, supposing it occasioned by the Jew.
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