“And the blood, how it gushed forth, Joseph!” Lorenza burst into a merry laugh again, and Cagliostro joined her, but suddenly stopped, and, listening, turned toward the door, which he had closed after Bischofswerder departed. It seemed as if he heard a noise--a peculiar knocking. Four times it was repeated, and Cagliostro waved his hand to Lorenza not to speak. Again were heard the four peculiar rhythmical sounds. “Be quiet, for Heaven’s sake be quiet, Lorenza! Let me cover you with the veil; it is a messenger from the Invisibles.” Cagliostro flew to the door, unbolted it, and stood humbly near the entrance. A masked figure, enveloped in a cloak, opened it, and entered, rebolting it. Slowly turning toward Cagliostro, he harshly demanded, “Whose servant are you?” “The servant of the Invisible Rulers and Fathers,” he humbly answered. “Who are the Invisible Fathers?” “The four ambassadors of the great general of the exiles.” “Call him by that name which he bore before a heretic pope in Rome, a weak empress, a free-thinking emperor in Germany, a lost-in-sin French emperor, and a heretic Spanish minister, condemned him to banishment and destruction.” “General of the Jesuits,” he answered respectfully, bowing lower. “Do you know the sign by which he may be recognized?” “Yes, by a ring with the likeness of the founder of the order, the holy Ignatius Loyola.” “Then look, and recognize me,” cried the mask, extending his hand to Cagliostro. “The General,” he murmured, frightened, gazing at the ring upon the small, white hand of the other. “The holy founder of the order himself!” He seized his hand and pressed it to his lips, sinking upon his knees. The mask remained standing before the magician, as lowly as he might bow himself, who was still arrayed in his brilliant costume with the band upon his brow sparkling like diamonds. With a cold, reserved manner he answered, “I am he, and am come here to give you my commands by word of mouth.” “Command me; I am thy humble servant, and but a weak tool in thy hands.” “It is my will that you should become a powerful tool in my hands. Rise, for I will speak to the man who must stand erect in the storm. Rise!” The proud commander was now an humble, obedient servant. He rose slowly, standing with bowed head. “When and where did we last meet?” demanded the mask. “In 1773, at Rome.”