few
words alone with Stradella, led him to his own room. He carefully closed
the door before speaking.

'A word of explanation, Maestro,' he said, 'for all this must seem a
little incomprehensible to you. First, let me tell you that the Lady
Ortensia has spent the time of your imprisonment in the convent of the
Ursuline nuns with her serving-woman. That is the first piece of news
you wish to hear, I am sure.'

The young musician drew a deep breath of relief, for his gnawing anxiety
on Ortensia's account had been far harder to bear during his confinement
than any bodily hardship, and he had not at first thought it safe to ask
any questions of his liberator. The mere fact that the latter had been
introduced by the secretary as a Venetian gentleman had filled him with
apprehension, and even now he believed that Trombin had probably been
sent by Pignaver.

As if understanding what passed in Stradella's mind, the Bravo
volunteered an explanation.

'A friend of mine and I are travelling southwards on important
business,' he said. 'Before we left Venice the town was ringing with
your exploit, as it has echoed with your praises these three months
past. My friend Count Gambardella and I are amongst your most ardent
admirers, Signor Maestro, and I may say in confidence that we have a
private grudge against the Senator Pignaver. You may imagine our delight
on hearing that you had carried off his niece! Quite naturally we have
asked after you at each posting station on the road. You understand the
rest. My friend and I venture to hope that you and your bride will
honour us with your company at supper.'

'I cannot find words for my thanks, sir,' answered Stradella, wondering
whether he were not in a dream, still sleeping on the stone seat in his
cell. 'I can only hope to show you some day how grateful I am. You have
saved my life!'

Trombin smiled pleasantly, but said nothing.

CHAPTER XI

Gambardella knocked at the door of San Domenico twice in quick
succession, and then again once after a short interval. For reasons
known to himself he had not hesitated to begin his inquiries for
Ortensia at the old Dominican convent then occupied by the nuns of Saint
Ursula, and it was at once apparent that his knock inspired confidence.
Instead of drawing back the small sliding panel in the weather-beaten
door to see who was outside and to ask his errand, the portress opened
the postern on one side almost immediately, without