ing Venice by one of the many
canals, reached the landing place without adventure. The stranger
handed Giuseppi a ducat.

"I do not know when I shall want you again; but I will mark the hour,
as agreed, on the pillar. Do not fail to go there every afternoon; and
even if you don't see it, you might as well come round here at half
past ten of a night. I may want you suddenly."

Before going to sleep that night, Francis thought the matter over
seriously, and finally concluded that he would have no more to do with
it. No doubt, by crossing over to San Nicolo in the daytime, he might
be able to loosen a plank at the back of the hut, or to cut so large an
opening that he could hear, as well as see, what was going on within;
but supposing he discovered that a plot was on hand in favour of the
enemies of Venice, such as Padua or Hungary, what was he to do next? At
the best, if he denounced it, and the officers of the republic
surrounded the hut when the conspirators were gathered there, arrested
them, and found upon them, or in their houses, proofs sufficient to
condemn them, his own position would not be enviable. He would gain,
indeed, the gratitude of the republic; but as for rewards, he had no
need of them. On the other hand, he would draw upon himself the enmity
of some eight or ten important families, and all their connections and
followers, and his life would be placed in imminent danger. They would
be all the more bitter against him, inasmuch as the discovery would not
have been made by accident, but by an act of deliberate prying into
matters which concerned him in no way, he not being a citizen of the
republic.

So far his action in the matter had been a mere boyish freak; and now
that he saw it was likely to become an affair of grave importance,
involving the lives of many persons, he determined to have nothing
further to do with it.

Chapter 3: On The Grand Canal.

Giuseppi, next morning, heard the announcement of the determination of
Francis, to interfere no further in the matter of the conspiracy at San
Nicolo, with immense satisfaction. For the last few nights he had
scarcely slept, and whenever he dozed off, dreamed either of being
tortured in dungeons, or of being murdered in his gondola; and no money
could make up for the constant terrors which assailed him. In his
waking moments he was more anxious for his employer than for himself,
for it was upon him that the vengeance of the conspirators would