It was Gathorne Edwards who entered.

“Well, you have got back?” he said, with but scant civility.  “Where is Calabressa?”

The tall, pale, stooping man looked round with some caution.

“There is no one—­no one but Reitzei,” said Lind, impatiently.

“Calabressa is detained in Naples—­the General’s orders,” said the other, in rather a low voice.  “I did not write—­I thought it was not safe to put anything on paper; more especially as we discovered that Kirski was being watched.”

“No wonder,” said Lind, scornfully.  “A fool of a madman being taken about by a fool of a mountebank!”

Edwards stared at him.  Surely this man, who was usually the most composed, and impenetrable, and suave of men, must have been considerably annoyed thus to give way to a petulant temper.

“But the result, Edwards:  well?”

“Refused!”

Lind laughed sardonically.

“Who could have doubted?  Of course the council do not think that I approved of that mad scheme?”

“At all events, sir,” said Edwards, submissively, “you permitted it.”

“Permitted it!  Yes; to please old Calabressa, who imagines himself a diplomatist.  But who could have doubted what the end would be?  Well, what further?”

“I understand that a message is on its way to you from the council,” said the other, speaking in still lower tones, “giving further instructions.  They consider it of great importance that—­it—­should be done by one of the English section; so that no one may imagine it arises from a private revenge.”

Lind was toying with one of the pieces of the broken paper-knife.

“Zaccatelli has had the warning,” Edwards continued.  “Granaglia took it.  The Cardinal is mad with fright—­will do anything.”

Lind seemed to rouse himself with an effort.

“I beg your pardon, friend Edwards.  I did not hear.  What were you saying?”

“I was saying that the Cardinal had had the decree announced to him, and is mad with fear, and he will do anything.  He offers thirty thousand lire a year; not only that, but he will try to get his Holiness to give his countenance to the Society.  Fancy, as Calabressa says, what the world would say to an alliance between the Vatican and the SOCIETY OF THE SEVEN STARS!”

Lind seemed incapable of paying attention to this new visitor, so absorbed was he in his own thoughts.  He had again to rouse himself forcibly.

“Yes,” he said, “you were saying, friend Edwards, that the Starving Cardinal had become aware of the decree.  Yes; well, then?”

“Did you not hear, sir?  He thinks there should be an alliance between the Vatican and the Society.”

“His Eminence is jocular, considering how near he is to the end of his life,” said Lind, absently.

“Further,” Edwards continued, “he has sent back the daughter of old De Bedros, who, it seems, first claimed the decree against him; and he is to give her a dowry of ten thousand lire when she marries.  But all these promises and proposals do not seem to have weighed much with the council.”