“I suppose there is a woman in the case,” said the indolent man.  “We will respect your secret.  Put the poor devil out of his misery and let us come to our business.”

“Kill an innocent man!” exclaimed Contarini.

“Yes, since a word from him can send us all to die between the two red columns.”

“His master is powerful and rich,” said Jacopo.  “If the fellow does not go back to-night, there will be trouble to-morrow, and since he was sent to my house, the inquiry will begin here.”

“That is true,” said more than one voice, in a tone of hesitation.

Zorzi was very pale, but he held his head high, facing the light of the tall wax candles on the table around which his captors were standing.  He was hopelessly at their mercy, for they were twenty to one; the door had been shut and barred and the only window in the room was high above the floor and covered by a thick curtain.  He understood perfectly that, by the accident of Angelo’s name, “Angel” being the password of the company, he had been accidentally admitted to the meeting of some secret society, and from what had been said, he guessed that its object was a conspiracy against the Republic.  It was clear that in self-defence they would most probably kill him, since they could not reasonably run the risk of trusting their lives in his hands.  They looked at each other, as if silently debating what they should do.

“At first you suggested that we should torture him,” sneered the indolent man, “and now you tremble like a girl at the idea of killing him!  Listen to me, Jacopo; if you think that I will leave this house while this fellow is alive, you are most egregiously mistaken.”

He had drawn his dagger while he was speaking, and before he had finished it was dangerously near Zorzi’s throat.  Contarini retired a step as if not daring to defend the prisoner, whose assailant, in spite of his careless and almost womanish tone, was clearly a man of action.  Zorzi looked fearlessly into the eyes that peered at him through the holes in the mask.

“It is curious,” observed the other.  “He does not seem to be afraid.  I am sorry for you, my man, for you appear to be a fine fellow, and I like your face, but we cannot possibly let you go out of the house alive.”

“If you choose to trust me,” said Zorzi calmly, “I will not betray you.  But of course it must seem safer for you to kill me.  I quite understand.”

“If anything, he is cooler than Venier,” observed one of the company.

“He does not believe that we are in earnest,” said Contarini.

“I am,” answered Venier.  “Now, my man,” he said, addressing Zorzi again, “if there is anything I can do for you or your family after your death, without risking my neck, I will do it with pleasure.”

“I have no family, but I thank you for your offer.  In return for your courtesy, I warn you that my master’s skiff is fast to the step of the house.  It might be recognised.  When you have killed me, you had better cast it off—­it will drift away with the tide.”