“For you, sir, I care nothing,” I answered him, taking his own tone, and returning him the same brutal frankness that he used with me. “That you deserve to suffer I do not doubt. But since other blood than yours might be shed as you say, since innocent lives might be lost... Give me the paper.” He was frowning upon me, and smiling viperishly at the same time. “I like your frankness better than your piety,” said he. “So now we understand each other, and know that neither is in the other's debt. Hereafter beware of Egidio Gambara. I give you this last loyal warning. See that you do not come into my way again.” I rose and looked at him--looked down from my greater height. I knew well the source of this last, parting show of hatred. Like Cosimo's it sprang from jealousy. And a growth more potential of evil does not exist. He bore my glance a moment, then turned and took up the lanthorn. “Come,” he said, and obediently I followed him up the winding stone staircase, and so to the very gates of the Palace. We met no one. What had become of the guards, I cannot think; but I am satisfied that Gambara himself had removed them. He opened the wicket for me, and as I stepped out he gave me the paper and whistled softly. Almost at once I heard a sound of muffled hooves under the colonnade, and presently loomed the figures of a man and a mule; both dim and ghostly in the pearly light of dawn--for that was the hour. Gambara followed me out, and pulled the wicket after him. “That beast is for you,” he said curtly. “It will the better enable you to get away.” As curtly I acknowledged the gift, and mounted whilst the groom held the stirrup for me. O! it was the oddest of transactions! My Lord Gambara with death in his heart very reluctantly giving me a life I did not want. I dug my heels into the mule's sides and started across the silent, empty square, then plunged into a narrow street where the gloom was almost as of midnight, and so pushed on. I came out into the open space before the Porta Fodesta, and so to the gate itself. From one of the windows of the gatehouse, a light shone yellow, and, presently, in answer to my call, out came an officer followed by two men, one of whom carried a lanthorn swinging from his pike. He held this light aloft, whilst the officer surveyed me. “What now?” he challenged. “None passes out to-night.” For answer I thrust the paper under his nose. “Orders from my Lord Gambara,” said I. But he never looked at it. “None passes out to-night,” he repeated imperturbably. “So run my orders.” “Orders from whom?” quoth I, surprised by his tone and manner. “From the Captain of Justice, if you must know. So you may get you back whence you came, and wait till daylight.” “Ah, but stay,” I said. “I do not think you can have heard me. I carry orders from my Lord the Governor. The Captain of Justice cannot overbear these.” And I shook the paper insistently.