“I have orders to let my master know, as soon as you return, signor.”

“You can tell him, at the same time, that I have returned without hurt, and pray him not to disturb himself, as I can tell him what has taken place in the morning.”

Polani, however, at once came to Francis’ room.

“Thank Heaven you have returned safe to us, my boy!” he said.  “I have just knocked at the girls’ doors, to tell them of your return, and, by the quickness with which they answered, I am sure that they, like myself, have had no sleep.  Have you succeeded in your mission?”

“Perfectly, signor.  I have been to Chioggia itself, and to the entrances of the three passages, and have discovered that none of them are guarded by any force that could resist us.”

“But how did you manage to pass through their galleys?”

“I landed on this side of Pelestrina, and had the gondola carried across, and launched in the channel inside their cordon; and it was not until we entered the last passage—­that by Brondolo—­that we were noticed.  Then there was a sharp chase for a bit, but we outstripped them, and got safely across to Pelestrina.  One of the galleys, in the excitement of the chase, ran fast into the mud; and Matteo, with some of his men, waded out and captured the officer and crew.  So there is every prospect of our succeeding tomorrow.”

“All that is good,” Polani said; “but to me, just at present, I own that the principal thing is that you have got safely back.  Now I will not keep you from your bed, for I suppose that you will not be able to lie late in the morning.”

Francis certainly did not intend to do so, but the sun was high before he woke.  He hurriedly dressed, and went downstairs.

“I have seen the admiral,” Polani said as he entered, “and told him that you were sound asleep, and I did not intend to wake you, for that you were looking worn and knocked up.  He said:  ’Quite right!  The lad is so willing and active, that I forget sometimes that he is not an old sea dog like myself, accustomed to sleep with one eye open, and to go without sleep altogether for days if necessary.’  So you need not hurry over your breakfast.  The girls are dying to hear your adventures.”

As he took his breakfast, Francis gave the girls an account of his expedition.

“And so, you saw Rufino!” Maria said.  “Did he inquire after me?  You told him, I hope, that I was fading away rapidly from grief at his absence.”

“I did not venture upon so flagrant an untruth as that,” Francis replied.

“Is he very uncomfortable?”

“Not very, signora.  He has a good tent, some excellent wine, an allowance of bread, which might be larger, and occasionally fish.  As he has also the gift of excellent spirits, I do not think he is greatly to be pitied—­except, of course, for his absence from you.”

“That, of course,” Maria said.  “When he does come here, he always tells me a moving tale of his privations, in hopes of exciting pity; but, unfortunately, I cannot help laughing at his tales of hardship.  But we were really anxious about you last night, Francisco, and very thankful when we heard you had returned.