spoke again. "After all, it shall avail you
little." He turned to the carnifex. "Federigo, do your work," said
he, whereupon the fellow stepped behind me, and the halberdiers ranged
themselves one on either side of me again.

"A word ere I go, Messer del' Orca," I demanded insolently.

He looked at me sharply, wondering, maybe, at the fresh tone I took.

"Say it and begone," he sullenly permitted me.

I paused a moment to choose fitting words for that portentous death-song
of mine. At length--

"You boasted to me a little while ago," said I, smiling grimly, "that
the man did not live who had thrice fooled you. That man does live, for
that man am I."

"Bah!" he returned contemptuously, thinking, no doubt, that I referred
to my interview with Madonna Paola. "You may take what pride you will
from such a thought. You are upon the threshold of death."

"True, but the thought is one that affords me more comfort and joy than
pride. As much comfort and joy as you shall take horror when I tell you
in what manner I have fooled you." I paused to heighten the sensation of
my words.

"To such good purpose have I used my wits that ere another sun shall
rise and set you will have followed me along the black road that I am
now treading--the road whose bourne is the gallows. Bethink you of the
charred paper that last night you brushed from this table when you awoke
to find a candle fallen on the treacherous letter Vitellozzo Vitelli
sent you in the lining of a hat."

His jaw fell, his face flamed redder than ever for a second, then it
went grey as ashes.

"Of what do you prate, fool?" he questioned huskily, seeking to bluster
it before the startled glances of his officers.

"I speak," said I, "of that charred paper. It was I who laid the candle
across it; but it was a virgin sheet I burned. Vitelli's letter I had
first abstracted."

"You lie!" he almost screamed.

"To prove that I do not, I will tell you what it contained. It held
proof that bribed by the Tyrant of Citta di Castello you had undertaken
to pose an arbalister to slay the Duke on the occasion of his coming
visit to Cesena."

He glared at me a moment in furious amazement. Then he turned to his
officers.

"Do not heed him," he bade them. "The dog lies to sow doubts in your
minds ere he goes out to hang. It is a puerile revenge."

I laughed with amused confidence. There was one among them had heard
Lampugnani's words touching the messenger's hat--words th