"Rocca Zicani," he exclaimed, standing suddenly as the warning cry,
"_Stale_," became more distinct, "I am going to put your professions
to the proof."
"Excellency, I will do anything--"
"Then, if you would wake to-morrow with a head upon your shoulders,
enter that gondola, and go back to those who sent you. Demand your
wage of them--"
"But, Excellency--"
"Demand your wage of them," persisted the priest, sternly, "and say
that the man who was their enemy lies dead before the church of San
Salvatore. You understand me?"
A curious look came into the _bravo's_ eyes.
"Saint John!" he cried, "that I should have followed such a one as
you, Excellency!"
But the priest continued warningly:
"As you obey, so hope for the mercy of Venice. You deal with those who
know how to reward their friends and to punish their enemies. Betray
us, and I swear that no death in all Italy shall be such a death as
you will die at dawn to-morrow."
He raised his voice, and summoned the gondolier to the steps of the
quay. The _bravo_ threw himself down upon the velvet cushions with the
threat still ringing in his ears.
"Excellency," he said, "I understand. They shall hear that you are
dead."
CHAPTER III
Fra Giovanni stepped from his gondola, and stood at the door of the
Palazzo Pisani exactly at a quarter to ten o'clock. Thirty minutes had
passed since he had talked with the _bravo_, Rocca, and had put him
to the proof. The time was enough, he said; the tale would have been
told, the glad news of his own death already enjoyed by those who
would have killed him.
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