And presently he heard the subdued bustle of arrival, the great door clang; the ringing answers of the soldiers; then outside his own door hushed and respectful voices—the door opened, shut, and Visconti saw his visitor.

A man, black-eyed, florid, richly dressed in velvet, well armed, unattended, and carrying the castle keys—Giacomo Carrara. He stood in amazement, and shrank back half-afraid, though the guard had warned him.

'Visconti!' he cried. 'What has happened?'

The sickly light of the lantern showed him a white, haggard face, with wild, bloodshot eyes, the hair hanging lank and damp about its forehead, the plain doublet gashed and torn, hands and face smeared with blood.

But, at sight of the man he hoped to buy, Visconti's face took on a more human look.

'You have seen my messenger?'

'Hush!' and Giacomo looked around cautiously. 'Yes, I have seen him, and dispatched my answer.'

'My offer suits you?' said Visconti grimly.

'It suited me, Visconti, till just now,' returned the other. 'It suited me to such purpose that my men even now await my orders to desert to Milan.'

'Ah!' Visconti said. 'And what of it now?' he added, looking around again, the old subduing spirit in his glance.

'What of it? It shall still be done, only,' Carrara smiled, 'there is an unforeseen addition to the bargain. Not only do you need my men, Visconti; I think, as well, you need your liberty.'

'And so the price is higher. Is that what you would say? Unloose my arm. It shall not be forgotten in the bribe,' he sneered.

Carrara advanced and undid the rope in silence. He knew Visconti was unarmed.

Visconti gasped with relief as the torture was removed.

'And now,' he said, taking at once the mastery, 'how do matters stand between us? Be wary; be brief.'

Rapidly Giacomo told him how, with the desertion, half Mastino's army would be gone; how Padua was to be given into the hands of Visconti's generals, and how Count Conrad played at chess.

Visconti hated the smooth traitor who was waiting to drive a hard bargain with his necessity—and his freed hand went to his doublet: the turquoise gloves had not been lost.

'And now, your terms?' he said.

The Duke of Padua hesitated a moment—even with Visconti in his power he hesitated.

'Those you refused two years ago,' he said. 'When we warred with Pavia.'

Visconti remembered. Two years ago, when he had been by half not so great as he stood now, he had refused them in scorn—they meant half his dominions—they would place Carrara on a level with himself.

'Well?' he said, 'and if I refuse?'

'A prisoner does not refuse—his liberty,' smiled Giacomo. He could afford to smile.

Visconti controlled himself.

'And if I accept—you take my word, all I have to give—a prisoner's word?'

'A Visconti's word,' corrected Carrara. Nay, lord, I think I shall need more than that.'

'What more can I give?' he asked. 'You waste the time, Carrara.'

Giacomo was playing with the keys in his hand.

'Yourself, Visconti,' he returned calmly. The army only waits for me to march on Milan, leaving della Scala stripped of half his force. You will go with it, Visconti, as my prisoner. My army will conduct you into Milan—where I shall not leave you till the terms I offer are fulfilled. Then, Visconti, but not till then, we will together ruin della Scala.'

Visconti was silent.

'Come,' continued Carrara, 'shall it be so—or will you wait and meet della Scala and Count Conrad?'

'I accept your terms,' said Gian, and rose to his feet. 'I accept, Carrara.'

Giacomo's eyes shone. With trembling fingers he unbuttoned his long black velvet cloak and flung it on Visconti's shoulders.

'We must hasten; even now the tipsy German may think to visit the castle.' And he selected a key from the bunch in his hand, and advanced toward the inner door. Visconti started forward, with staring eyes.

Not that way!' he cried.

Carrara turned in surprise, the key in the lock.

''Tis the only way, Visconti. Are you thinking we could pass unnoticed, you and I together?'

Gian, deathly white, sank back obstinately against the wall.

'I will not go that way,' he said. 'I will not go that way.'

'He is in his mad fit again,' thought Giacomo; aloud he said soothingly: 'Come, lord, this is the only way; will you rather wait to see Verona's face when he discovers you? What is wrong with this way?' he added in vexation as Visconti made no movement. 'Quick! the moments fly!'

Gian stepped forward with an effort.

''Tis my fancy,' he said. 'Idle, truly, at such a moment. Open the door, Carrara.'

The key ground in the lock—as Visconti had heard it once before that night, turned on the other side.

Carrara paused, however, and having taken the lamp from the niche, put it down with a smile, and drew a parchment from his belt.

'I had forgotten,' he said. 'I will leave this, else Verona will miss the point of the jest; we will tell him what a brave catch his lieutenant hath allowed to escape the snare.' And with the end of his dagger he drove the paper into the crevice of the stone. 'I never loved Verona,' he added with an evil smile.

But Visconti had not heard, nor was he heeding him; his eyes were riveted upon the door.

Again Padua raised the lantern above his head.

The glimmering light fell faintly on a dark chamber, and dimly lit a large black couch from which the tapestry coverlet was half dragged off. Visconti peered an instant over his rescuer's shoulder eagerly, then fell back.

'I cannot,' he said sullenly.