“Keep under the counter,” he said in fairly good Italian.  “I will go and see if the captain is in his cabin.”

Pasquale waited, and in a few moments the mate returned, dropped a Jacob’s ladder over the taffrail and made it fast on board.  Pasquale hitched the painter of the skiff to the end that hung down, and went up easily enough in spite of his age and stiffened joints.  He climbed over the rail and stood beside the mate.  The instant his feet touched the white deck he wished he had put on his Sunday hose and his clean shirt.  He touched his cap, as he assuredly would not have done ashore, to any one but his master.

“You seem to have been a sailor,” said the Greek mate, in an approving tone.

“Yes, sir,” answered Pasquale.  “Is Zorzi still safe?”

“The captain will tell you about Zorzi,” was the mate’s answer, as he led the way.

Aristarchi was seated with one leg under him on a inroad transom over which was spread a priceless Persian silk carpet, such as the richest patrician in Venice would have hung on the wall like a tapestry of great value.  He looked at Pasquale, and the latter heard the door shut behind him.  At the same instant a well-known voice greeted him by name, as Zorzi himself appeared from the inner cabin.

“I did not expect to find you so soon,” said the porter with a growl of satisfaction.

“I wish you had found him sooner,” laughed Aristarchi carelessly.  “And since you are here, I hope you will carry him off with you and never let me see his face again, till all this disturbance is over!  I would rather have carried off the Doge himself, with his precious velvet night-cap on his head, than have taken this fellow the other night.  All Venice is after him.  I was just going to drown him, to get rid of him.”

There was a sort of savage good-nature in the Greek’s tone which was reassuring, in spite of his ferocious looks and words.

“You would have been hanged if you had,” observed Pasquale in answer to the last words.

Zorzi was evidently none the worse for what had happened to him since his arrest and unexpected liberation.  He was not of the sort that suffer by the imagination when there is real danger, for he had plenty of good sense.  Pasquale told him that the master had returned.

“We knew it yesterday,” Zorzi answered.  “The captain seems to know everything.”

“Listen to me, friend porter,” Aristarchi said.  “If you will take this young fellow with you I shall be obliged to you.  I took him from the Governor’s men out of mere kindness of heart, because I liked him the first time I saw him, but the Ten are determined to get him into their hands, and I have no fancy to go with him and answer for the half-dozen crowns my mate and I broke in that frolic at Murano.”

Pasquale’s small eyes twinkled at the thought of the discomfited archers.

“We have changed our lodgings three times since yesterday afternoon,” continued Aristarchi, “and I am tired of carrying this lame bottle-blower up and down rope ladders, when the Signors of the Night are at the door.  So drop him over the rail into your boat and let me lead a peaceful life.”