Light-hearted as this man Calabressa was, having escaped from prison, and eagerly inclined for chatter, after so long a spell of enforced silence, he could not fail to perceive that his companion was hardly listening to him.

“Mais, mon frere, a quoi bon le regarder?” he said, peevishly.  “If it must come, it will come.  Or is it the poor cardinal you pity?  That was a good name they invented for him, anyway—­il cardinale affamatore.”

Again the bell rung, and Ferdinand Lind started.  When he turned to the door, it was with a look on his face of some anxiety and apprehension—­a look but rarely seen there.  Then the portiere was drawn aside to let some one come through:  at the same moment Lind caught a brief glimpse of a number of men sitting round a small table.

The person who now appeared, and whom Lind saluted with great respect, was a little, sallow-complexioned man, with an intensely black beard and mustache, and a worn expression of face.  He returned Lind’s salutation gravely, and said,

“Brother, the Council thank you for your prompt answer to the summons.  Meanwhile, nothing is decided.  You will attend here to-morrow night.”

“At what hour, Brother Granaglia?”

“Ten.  You will now be conveyed back to the Rialto steps; from thence you can get to your hotel.”

Lind bowed acquiescence; and the stranger passed again through the portiere and disappeared.

CHAPTER X.

VACILLATION.

“Evelyn, I distrust that man Lind.”

The speaker was George Brand, who kept impatiently pacing up and down those rooms of his, while his friend, with a dreamy look on the pale and fine face, lay back in an easy-chair, and gazed out of the clear panes before him.  It was night; the blinds had not been drawn; and the row of windows, framed by their scarlet curtains, seemed a series of dark-blue pictures, all throbbing with points of golden fire.

“Is there any one you do not distrust?” said Lord Evelyn, absently.

“I hope so.  But with regard to Lind:  I had distinctly to let him know he must not assume that I am mixed up in any of his schemes until I definitely say so.  When, in answer to my vague proposal, he told me I had already pledged myself, I confess I was startled for a moment.  Of course it was all very well for him afterward to speak of my declared sympathy, and of my promise to reveal nothing, as being quite enough, at least for the earlier stage.  If that is so, you may easily acquire adherents.  But either I join with a definite pledge, or not at all.”

“I am inclined to think you had better not join,” said Lord Evelyn, calmly.