******
Cardinal Romulus Contarini sat alone in Nighthawk’s suite. He jumped when Nighthawk opened the door and came in on silent feet.
“Well?” he asked.
Nighthawk sighed. “Well, you were wrong, as usual.”
“Wrong?” Contarini said angrily. “I was not wrong! I am righteous in my faith and in my wrath! We will begin again,” he said, a cunning look in his eyes. “The diabolists cannot match the might of Mother Church—”
“But you were right about one thing,” Nighthawk said thoughtfully as he approached the Cardinal. “There is a false prophet in this story.” He removed the glove from his left hand. “It was you,” he said, reaching for the cowering churchman.