On the way from the prison to the palace the accused passed by Charles of Durazzo, to whom the wretched notary whispered, it is said, a promise to reveal nothing of what had formerly passed between them, on condition that Charles would provide for the other’s widow and orphans; to which the Duke assented with a nod of the head. And Nicholas of Melazzo kept his word; for, during all the torments to which he was presently subjected, he held his mouth and played the man. But with the valet it was very different; no sooner did Tommaso Pace feel his arms being dislocated at the shoulder in the torture known as that of “the Cord” than he shrieked for mercy, swearing to tell everything, and imploring to be conducted before his judges. And now there ensued the first of a series of hellish scenes that were to follow each other in the drama of mediæval reprisal, that nightmare of cruelty and fear. As the two prisoners were being taken from the cell where they had been tortured, to the hall of San Luigi, up a narrow, winding stairway, the Count of Terlizzi, who was bringing up the doleful procession with several of his men-at-arms—he having been present at the torturing of both the accused, and being in terror of what Tommaso Pace might be about to reveal—suddenly sprang upon the valet (who was walking behind Nicholas of Melazzo and their jailers) and with the help of one of his soldiers dragged him back into an embrasure of the stairway, and there, taking him by the throat, forced him to put out his tongue, which they cut out with a knife. Then pushing the fainting wretch before them, they rejoined the procession; but not before Pace’s howls had drawn the attention of Charles of Durazzo, who, like Terlizzi, had been a witness of what had taken place in the torture-chamber. So struck was he by the horrid energy of Terlizzi’s act, and understanding its purport as he did, Charles fell for an instant beneath the spell of the very danger which he had so laboriously created for the removal of Joan and Louis of Taranto from his path. It may be that there rang in his ears, together with the miserable valet’s inarticulate protests, the words of the Psalm: “He hath digged a pit for others and is fallen into it himself”; at any rate he glanced at Nicholas of Melazzo, and, halting the procession, drew him aside to where they could speak without being overheard. And Nicholas, reading the half-formed purpose in his face, once more whispered his promise of secrecy. Whereupon Charles, recovering his courage, promised on his part to take care of the notary’s family, adding a command that Nicholas should name every person concerned in the King’s assassination to the Chief Justice, excepting Charles himself and the Queen and the members of the royal family.