“My name is Francis Hammond.  My father is an English merchant who has, for the last four years, established himself here.”

“I know him well by repute,” Polani said.  “I trust I shall know more of him in the future.

“But where is your duenna, girls?”

“She remained behind in the gondola, father; she seemed too frightened to move.”

“The lady seemed to have lost her head altogether,” Francis said.  “As I was lifting your daughters into my gondola, in a very hasty and unceremonious way—­for the resistance of your servitors was all but overcome, and there was no time to be lost—­she held so tightly to their robes that they were rent in her hands.”

Signor Polani struck a gong.

“Let a gondola be manned instantly,” he said, “and let six of you take arms and go in search of our boat.  Let another man at once summon a leech, for some of those on board are, I fear, grievously wounded, if not killed.”

But there was no occasion to carry out the order concerning the boat, for before it was ready to start the missing gondola arrived at the steps, rowed by the remaining gondolier.  The duenna was lifted out sobbing hysterically, and the bodies of the two retainers were then landed.  One was dead; the other expired a few minutes after being brought ashore.

“You did not observe anything particular about the gondola, Maria, or you, Giulia?”

“No, father, I saw no mark or escutcheon upon it, though they might have been there without my noticing them.  I was too frightened to see anything; it came so suddenly upon us.”

“It was, as far as I noticed, a plain black gondola,” Francis said.  “The men concerned in the affair were all dressed in dark clothes, without any distinguishing badges.”

“How was it you came to interfere in the fray, young gentleman?  Few of our people would have done so, holding it to be a dangerous thing, for a man to mix himself up in a quarrel in which he had no concern.”

“I should probably have mixed myself up in it, in any case, when I heard the cry of women,” Francis replied; “but, in truth, I recognized the signoras as their gondola passed mine, and knew them to be cousins of my friend Matteo Giustiniani.  Therefore when I heard the outcry ahead, I naturally hastened up to do what I could in the matter.”

“And well you did it,” Polani said heartily.  “I trust that the man you felled into the water is he who is the author of this outrage.  I do not think I need seek far for him.  My suspicions point very strongly in one direction, and tomorrow I will lay the matter before the council and demand reparation.”

“And now, signor, if you will permit me I will take my leave,” Francis said.  “The hour is late, and the signoras will require rest after their fright and emotion.”

“I will see you tomorrow, sir.  I shall do myself the honour of calling early upon your father, to thank him for the great service you have rendered me.”