“You are very good, Signor Principe.  I will do my best to serve you, as I have served you and his departed Excellency, the Signor Principe, your father.”

“Very well, Meschini.  Now I need only repeat that the reward for your services will be great, as I trust that hereafter your recompense may be adequate for having had a share in so good a deed.  But, to be short, the best way to acquaint you with the matter is to show you this document which I have brought for the purpose.”

Montevarchi produced the famous deed and carefully unfolded it upon the table.  Then, after glancing over it once more, he handed it to the librarian.  The latter bent his keen eyes upon the page and rapidly deciphered the contents.  Then he read it through a second time and at last laid it down upon the table and looked up at the prince with an air of inquiry.

“You see, my dear Meschini,” said Montevarchi in suave tones, “this agreement was made by Don Leone Saracinesca because he expected to have no children.  Had he foreseen what was to happen—­ for he has legitimate descendants alive, he would have added a clause here, at the foot of the first page—­do you see?  The clause he would have added would have been very short—­something like this, ’Provided that the aforesaid Don Leone Saracinesca shall have no son born to him in wedlock, in which case, and if such a son be born, this present deed is wholly null, void and ineffectual.’  Do you follow me?”

“Perfectly,” replied Meschini, with a strange look in his eyes.  He again took the parchment and looked it over, mentally inserting the words suggested by his employer.  “If those words were inserted, there could be no question about the view the tribunals would take.  But there must be a duplicate of the deed at the Cancellaria.”

“Perhaps.  I leave that to your industry to discover.  Meanwhile, I am sure you agree with me that a piece of horrible injustice has been caused by this document; a piece of injustice, I repeat, which it is our sacred duty to remedy and set right.”

“You propose to me to introduce this clause, as I understand, in this document and in the original,” said the librarian, as though he wished to be quite certain of the nature of the scheme.

Montevarchi turned his eyes away and slowly scratched the table with his long nails.

“I mean to say,” he answered in a lower voice, “that if it could be made out in law that it was the intention of the person, of Don Leone—­”

“Let us speak plainly,” interrupted Meschini.  “We are alone.  It is of no use to mince matters here.  The only away to accomplish what you desire is to forge the words in both parchments.  The thing can be done, and I can do it.  It will be successful, without a shadow of a doubt.  But I must have my price.  There must be no misunderstanding.  I do not think much of your considerations of justice, but I will do what you require, for money.”