'I am Francisco di Coldra, from Verona, and ever ready to serve those whom Visconti hates!'

Ligozzi stood bare-headed, as if dazed.

Francisco spoke again, with meaning. Thy travel hath confused thee, sir,' he said; 'thou thinkest thou art still at the Duke of Verona's court, that thou standest thus humble?'

At this, Ligozzi roused himself. 'Tomaso has told me—he began. But again Francisco stopped him.

We must to horse!' he cried. 'To horse! Too much time has already been shamelessly wasted,' and he strode out, motioning to them to follow.

By the horses stood Conrad von Schulembourg, bringing them one by one under review, in the scanty gleam of light afforded by the lantern, and that flickered upon them through the space that answered for a window.

'A roan!' he cried gaily. 'I ever loved a roan charger. I will have this one, Francisco.' He spoke airily, as if ten minutes since Francisco had not lashed him with his tongue, and threatened him even with death, should his foolhardiness endanger them again.

'Thou wilt ride the black,' said Francisco coldly.

'Because I love the roan?' asked the other with a laugh. 'Because I say so,' returned Francisco.

A mocking answer rose to Conrad's lips, but it was never spoken. With a gesture, Francisco motioned him to silence. He turned and listened.

'Horses! And coming hither!' he said. 'Soldiers!'

The others, grouped close by, ready to mount, stopped paralysed—yes, Francisco's ears had caught the sound aright, the tramp of horsemen, and coming upon them from the road.

Escape with horses any other way there was none, though Conrad madly urged they should mount and fly.

But Francisco turned on him threateningly.

'Am I to run thee through?' he said; 'these horses mean more to me than thy life, or my own. Where shall we ride? Into the water? No, go back into the hut.' He turned to Ligozzi. 'Aid me tether these beasts where they may be unnoticed. These men perchance are only riding through.'

It was done in silence and with expedition. The soldiers' voices were now plain, and the jangle of their arms.

'Come, Ligozzi,' said Francisco, 'thou and I will play at being soldiers, and see how we can overcome Visconti's men. 'Tis a game that thou and I have played before.'

He drew his dagger as he spoke, and stepped back with Ligozzi into the hut. The door was closed. Francisco glanced around. By the table stood Conrad, showing even at that moment the silver and ivory chessmen, which he slipped out of his doublet one at a time, and passed them before Vittore's now wandering, now fascinated gaze.

Ligozzi and Tomaso stood beside their leader, one on either hand. Tomaso's face was white; the Visconti's scar showed plainly; his breast throbbed with excitement. Ligozzi's gaze was riveted upon Francisco.

A sudden babble of voices outside told the soldiers were in the open. A voice cried: 'Halt!'

But ere this Francisco had put out the light. They stood in darkness.

'I know that voice,' said Francisco at Ligozzi's ear; 'Alberic da Salluzzo. When last I heard it 'twas in Verona, at the burning of the palace. Dost remember?'

Ligozzi nodded. They held their daggers ready. No one stirred. Count Conrad thrust his chessman back into his doublet. He regretted Francisco had dragged him so furiously away before he had time to find Lady Valentine's dagger with the emerald. It could have been of service now.

There was a lull outside.