The grating was strong, and he grazed his hands badly and tore the
sleeve of his coat; but that was no matter. He looked up and down the
street; there was no one in sight, and the canal lay black and silent,
an ugly trench between two straight and slimy walls. The untried
universe might prove a dismal hole, but it could hardly be more flat
and sordid than the corner which he was leaving behind him. There was
nothing to regret; nothing to look back upon. It had been a pestilent
little stagnant world, full of squalid lies and clumsy cheats and
foul-smelling ditches that were not even deep enough to drown a man.

He walked along the canal bank, and came out upon the tiny square by the
Medici palace. It was here that Gemma had run up to him with her vivid
face, her outstretched hands. Here was the little flight of wet stone
steps leading down to the moat; and there the fortress scowling across
the strip of dirty water. He had never noticed before how squat and mean
it looked.

Passing through the narrow streets he reached the Darsena
shipping-basin, where he took off his hat and flung it into the water.
It would be found, of course, when they dragged for his body. Then he
walked on along the water's edge, considering perplexedly what to do
next. He must contrive to hide on some ship; but it was a difficult
thing to do. His only chance would be to get on to the huge old
Medici breakwater and walk along to the further end of it. There was a
low-class tavern on the point; probably he should find some sailor there
who could be bribed.

But the dock gates were closed. How should he get past them, and past
the customs officials? His stock of money would not furnish the high
bribe that they would demand for letting him through at night and
without a passport. Besides they might recognize him.

As he passed the bronze statue of the "Four Moors," a man's figure
emerged from an old house on the opposite side of the shipping basin
and approached the bridge. Arthur slipped at once into the deep shadow
behind the group of statuary and crouched down in the darkness, peeping
cautiously round the corner of the pedestal.

It was a soft spring night, warm and starlit. The water lapped against
the stone walls of the basin and swirled in gentle eddies round the
steps with a sound as of low laughter. Somewhere near a chain creaked,
swinging slowly to and fro. A huge iron crane towered up, tall and
melancholy in the dimness. Black on a shim