Brand rose at once.

“We must go and see the unfortunate devil, Edwards.  His brain never was steady, you know, and I suppose even two or three days’ hard drinking has made him wild again.  And just as I had prepared a little surprise for him!”

“What?” Edwards asked, as he opened the door.

“I have made him a little bequest that would have produced him about twenty pounds a year, to pay his rent.  It will be no kindness to give it to him until we see him straight again.”

But Edwards pushed the door to again, and said in a low voice,

“Of course, Mr. Brand, you must know of the Zaccatelli affair?”

Brand regarded him, and said, calmly,

“I do.  There are five men in England who know of it; you and I are two of them.”

“Well,” said Edwards, eagerly, “if such a thing were determined on, wouldn’t it have been better to let this poor wretch do it?  He would have gloried in it; he had the enthusiasm of the martyr just then; he thought he was to be allowed to do something that would make Miss Lind and her friends forever grateful to him.”

“And who put it into his head that Miss Lind knew anything about it?—­Calabressa, I suppose.”

Edwards colored slightly.

“Well, yes—­”

“And it was Calabressa who intrusted such a secret as that to a maniac—­”

“Pardon me, Kirski never knew specifically what lay before him; but he was ready for anything.  For my own part, I was heartily glad when they sent him back to England.  I did not wish to have any hand in such a business, however indirectly; and, indeed, I hope they have abandoned the whole project by this time.”

“It might be wiser, certainly,” said Brand, with an indifferent air.

“If they go on with it, it will make a fearful noise in Europe,” said Edwards, contemplatively.  “The assassination of a cardinal!  Well, his life has been scandalous enough—­but still, his death, in such a way—­”

“It will horrify people, will it not?” Brand said, calmly; “and his murderer will be execrated and howled at throughout Europe, no doubt!”

“Well, yes; you see, who is to know the motives?”

“There won’t be a single person to say a single word for him,” said Brand, absently.  “It is an enviable fate, isn’t it, for some wretched mortal?  No matter, Edwards; we will go and look up this fellow Kirski now.”

They went out into the night—­it was cold and drizzling—­and made their way up into Soho.  They knocked at the door of a shabby-looking house; and Kirski’s landlady made her appearance.  She was very angry when his name was mentioned; of course he was not at home; they would find him in some public-house or other—­the animal!

“But he pays his rent, doesn’t he?” Brand remonstrated.

Oh yes, he paid his rent.  But she didn’t like a wild beast in the house.  It was decent lodgings she kept; not a Wombwell’s Menagerie.