is it you would have me do? Stab him as
he sleeps?"

He shook his head. "That were too sweet and sudden a death for him. If
it had been no more than a matter of that, my old arms would have lent
me strength enough. But think you it would repay me for having seen my
boy pinned by that monster's pike to the burning logs?"

"What is it, then, you ask of me?"

"If that letter were indeed the treasonable document we account it; if
its treason should be aimed at Cesare Borgia--it could scarce be aimed
at another--would it not be a sweet thing to obtain possession of it?"

"Aye, but when he wakes to-morrow and finds it gone--what then? You know
this Governor of Cesena well enough to be assured that he would ransack
the castle, torture, rack, burn and flay us all until the missive were
forthcoming."

"That," he groaned, "is what deterred me. If I had the means of getting
the letter sent to Cesare Borgia, or of escaping with it myself from
Cesena, I should not have hesitated. Cesare Borgia is lying at Faenza,
and I could ride there in a day. But it would be impossible for me to
leave the place before morning. I have duties to perform in the town,
and I might get away whilst I am about them, but before then the letter
will have been missed, and no one will be allowed to leave the citadel."

"Why then," said I, "the only hope lies in abstracting that letter in
such a manner that he shall not suspect the loss; and that seems a very
desperate hope."

We sat in silence for some moments, during which I thought intently to
little purpose.

"Does he sleep yet, think you?" I asked presently.

"Assuredly he must."

"And if I were to go to the gallery, is there any fear that I should be
discovered by others?"

"None. All at Cesena are asleep by now."

"Then," said I, rising, "let us take a look at him. Who knows what may
suggest itself? Come." I moved towards the door, and he took up his
lanthorn and followed me, enjoining me to tread lightly.

CHAPTER XVIII. THE LETTER

On tiptoe I crept down that corridor to the gallery above the
banqueting-hall, secure from sight in the enveloping darkness, and
intent upon allowing no sound to betray my presence, lest Ramiro should
have awakened. Behind me, treading as lightly, came Messer Mariani.

Thus we gained the gallery. I leaned against the stout oaken balustrade,
and looked down into the black pit of the hall, broken in the centre by
the circle of light from the two ta