round the
courtier's knees; he flung him over his shoulder like a sack of flour,
ran with him to the open window and dropped him out.

Whether he meant to kill him, or did not care what became of him, is
not certain, but Trombin was a gentleman who generally kept his head,
even when he seemed to be most excited; and it is certain that, instead
of falling some four or five yards directly to the ground, Don Alberto
found himself clinging to the ladder halfway down. It turned sideways
with his weight, slowly at first, and fell with a clatter on the
drip-stones, when his feet were already touching the ground. He was
dizzy, the tumble had bruised his shins, and he had sprained his hands a
little, but he was otherwise unhurt, and the blood on his wristbands and
collar was from the scratch on Ortensia's arm.

For a few seconds he steadied himself against the corner of the house
where he had fallen with the ladder. Then he began to make his way
towards the door in the vineyard wall, and when he had walked thirty or
forty yards he stood still, whistled twice, and waited for an answer.
But none came.

He had, in fact, sent his own valet and a running footman to the Lateran
to follow him and Tommaso, and to note the house they entered. The
runner was then to hasten back to the Basilica, where Don Alberto's
coach was waiting, and was to come to the house with it, or to the
nearest point it could reach. The footman was the most famous runner in
Roman lackeydom and boasted that he could always cover a mile in five
minutes, up hill and down and over the worst roads, and in a shorter
time on a smooth and level path. As for the coach, it could drive to the
very door of the little house; for the Via di Santa Sabina had always
been practicable for vehicles, because it led to the castle of the
Savelli, which was then partly in ruins and partly turned into a
Dominican monastery. So all was well planned, and Don Alberto's valet
was to hide near the last door his master entered in case the latter
needed help.

Yet when Altieri whistled softly there was no answer. He went on twenty
paces farther and whistled again, with the same result. He reached the
door in the wall, and whistled a third time, peering into the gloom
amongst the vines. At last he went out into the road, determined to go
away on foot and alone, rather than to risk another interview with the
quick-tempered man who had thrown him out of the window.

He went away on foot,