Hugh laughed. "Well enough," he approved. "What say you, Matteo?" "By Our Lady, he looks the part better than do we," protested the jongleur. "But in with you, Ralph. It draws toward evening, and we must survey our ground before the light fails." The comrades settled themselves in the cabin, and the gondola sped over the canals, propelled by the strong arms of the boatmen. It was still sunlight when Beppo parted the aft curtains. "The fondaco Pisano is ahead, lords," he announced. Hugh and Matteo peered through the curtains at a gloomy structure, windowless on the ground level and barred at every opening above, which was almost identical in architecture with the fondaco Ziniani--or, for that matter, with scores of houses in Venice. "Hist, lords," came Beppo's voice behind them, sibilantly imperative. "Lie close. Bide but a moment. So!" The gondola shot past the fondaco Pisano, and then, in obedience to the pressure of the stern oar, swung to the left and glided into the mouth of a shadow-filled canal which slit a mass of buildings opposite. It came to rest against the dripping, mossy wall of the house on the right of the opening. "Now, lords, you may study Messer Pisano as you will," chuckled Beppo. "Few come hither, and such as pass will be none the wiser of our purpose." The comrades applauded his device. But for more than an hour they watched without result. Not a sign of life was visible in the fondaco Pisano. Two gondolas were moored to the landing-steps, but neither was green. No porters or servants gossiped before the broad, brass-bound door. The windows were tenantless. The sun dropped lower, and Hugh grew discouraged. Soon it would be too dark to see. But in the very moment when he was prepared to give up hope the green gondola came into view on the main canal, and veered across to the landing-steps. Mocenigo sprang out, and ran lightly up the steps to the great door, which opened as he neared it. "Note, Hugh, his gondolier bides without," said Matteo. The twilight deepened, turned to dusk. The gondolas that passed now carried flaming torches or cressets to guide them. "Can you see, lords?" questioned Beppo in a husky whisper. "Sufficiently," answered Matteo. "What is that?" A flare of light illumined the portico of the building they were watching. "They have opened the door," breathed Hugh. Torches wove a whimsical pattern on the steps; shadows criss-crossed in a grotesque dance macabre; voices faintly called. As through a veil, the comrades glimpsed several figures that descended to where the gondolas lay.