ofani had discovered
and descended the secret staircase, had slipped his guards and ridden to
Brandilancia's succour on the swiftest horse obtainable in Rome.

Hastily exchanging his own mire-besmirched garments for the secretary's
unobtrusive suit, Brandilancia, with many apologies for his onslaught,
listened to Malespini's explanations of a circuitous route by which he
could avoid Radicofani, ride to Orte, and, leaving the horse at the inn
stables, take the diligence on the following day for Venice. Malespini's
suggestions, acceptable in themselves, were gratifyingly supplemented by
a tender letter from Marie de' Medici and a purse well filled with gold.

"Of the money I have fortunately no need," Brandilancia replied, "but
the care of your mistress for my safety and your own pains in my behalf
command my eternal gratitude. You shall both hear from me from Venice,
and so farewell."

Malespini's scheme seemed at first likely to be crowned with success,
and having secured his seat in the Venetian post, Brandilancia naturally
imagined his troubles at an end; but shortly after leaving Orte, where
the road turns to the eastward for its climb over the Apennines, the
lumbering vehicle came to a sudden halt. Shouts and oaths without, the
shrieks of a woman at his side, and the opening of the door by a masked
man, formidably armed, sufficiently explained the situation.

The passengers on dismounting were relieved of their purses by the
bandits, but, with the exception of Brandilancia, were allowed to
proceed upon their journey. No explanation was offered for this
discrimination, but there was something familiar in the figure of the
leader, who, after pointing out Brandilancia, had ridden rapidly on in
advance of his men, and the captive wondered at the excellent
accoutrements of the band and the good quality of the horse which he was
compelled to mount.

They struck at once into a wild mountain gorge, avoiding villages and
farms, and when at noon the brigands halted for refreshments in a
little wood, and removed their masks, Brandilancia recognised no
familiar faces.

Remounting, the brigands pursued their way up a steep bridle path, their
destination a strong castle, perched high on a spur of the mountain. The
prisoner's heart sank as he noted its isolation and strength, for here a
captive might remain for years and finally die undiscovered.

But Brandilancia had not reckoned on the cupidity of his host. His
capture h