"And yet there was a time when he called all these charms his own, and his command was obeyed in Theodora's gilded halls." "Can love so utterly vanish?" Tristan queried with an incredulous glance at the speaker. Basil gave a soundless laugh. "Love!" he said. "Hearts are but pawns in Theodora's hands. Her ambition is to rule, and he who can give to her what her heart desires is the favorite of the hour. Beware of her! Once the poison of her kisses rankles in your blood nothing can save you from your doom." Basil watched the effect of his words upon his listener and for the nonce he seemed content. Tristan would take heed. When Tristan had taken his leave a panel in the wall opened noiselessly and Il Gobbo peered into the chamber. Basil locked and bolted the door which led into the corridor, and the sinister, bat-like form stepped out of its dark frame and approached the inmate of the chamber with a fawning gesture. "If your lordship will believe me," he said in a husky undertone, "I am at last on the trail." "What now?" "I may not tell your nobility as yet." "Do you want another bezant, dog?" "It is not that, my lord." "Then, who does he consort with?" "I have tracked him as a panther tracks its prey--he consorts with no one." "Then continue to follow him and see if he consorts with any--woman." "A woman?" "Why not, fool?" "But had your nobility said there was a woman--" "There always is." "Your nobility let him go--and yet--one word--" "I must know more, before I strike. I knew he would come. There is more to this than we wot of. Theodora is infatuated with his austerity. He has jilted her and she smarts under the blow. She will move heaven and earth to bring him to her feet. Meanwhile there are weightier matters to be considered. Perchance I shall pay you an early call in your noble abode. Prepare fitly and bid the ghosts troop from their haunted caves. And now be off! Your quarry has the start!" Il Gobbo bowed grotesquely and receded backward towards the panel which closed soundlessly behind him. Basil remained alone in the octagon cabinet. He strode slowly towards one of the windows that faced to southward and gazed long and pensively out upon the undulating expanse of the Roman Campagna. "Three messengers, yet none has returned," he muttered darkly. "Can it be that I have lost my clutch on destiny?" CHAPTER II UNDER THE SAFFRON SCARF Once again the pale planets of night ruled the sky, when Tristan emerged from his inn and took the direction of the Palatine. All memories of his meeting with the Lord Basil had faded before the import of the coming hour, when he was to stand face to face with him who held in his hand the fate of two beings destined for each other from the beginning of time and torn asunder by the ruthless hand of Fate.