"Bravely answered. 'Tis as I expected. Well, Messers, we are busy in the world above, and we may not attend to you as your deserts warrant. But bide in patience. We shall yet give you good entertainment." It was two weeks before he appeared again. They were weeks of the same dreary routine, the same conscientious exercise, the same utter silence save for what the prisoners said to one another. Yet Hugh did not find it so wearing as he had feared it might be. There was so much to tell his father, there was so much for his father to tell him, that the hours passed rapidly. The only times when his courage failed him were in the night whilst Sir James slept and he conned over Helena's threats and the danger in which Edith might stand. He wondered often if Edith thought of him, if his comrades had any idea of what had become of him, if any one still cared for him or missed him or strove for his release. One night he walked the dungeon until dawn. The next morning Bartolommeo bustled in. "I give you greeting, fair lords," the ruffian hailed them jovially. "We must part for a time. I am engaged upon other duties, the import of which I may not tell you. Ha, ha, ha! But I have a choice varlet to take my place. He will watch over you like a mother--ay, like a dam over its kid. Belike, you will regret Bartolommeo even so. Come within, Messer Ranulphio!" A slender, hairy, little man stole into the dungeon, rubbing his hands together with a certain evil joyousness. His face bristled with a tangled beard, through which stared the sallow skin, and his eyes were very sharp. Hugh started at sight of him. He seemed vaguely familiar, uncannily suggestive of another personality. But there could be no mistake about the wickedness with which he eyed the prisoners. "At your pleasure, Messer Caraducci," he answered in a cracked, high-pitched voice, with a malignant whine. "Are these the charges I am to take under my care? Ay, they will remember me. They will heed me. I have had knights in my care ere this, and they came to have high respect for me." Bartolommeo regarded him with affectionate respect. "Is he not a pleasant bit of a man?" he appealed to Sir James and Hugh. "A very trustworthy fellow, I can tell you. Ere he was fifteen he cut his mother's throat. A year later he slew the household of a noble in Florence for whom he worked, and made off with their ducats. He hath been outlawed from four cities, and hath been a pirate ten years. Oh, we are careful whom we select, Messer Mocenigo and I. We specialise in cut-throats. But this knave is after my own heart. I could envy him some of his deeds, and I take pride that he is a Venetian." The new jailer bowed with mock humility. "Two brave bodies for the torment," he whined. "They are no crook-boned scarecrows to fall apart at a twist of the rack. Nay, they will live long and suffer well. I will hold them in good care, Messer Bartolommeo."