on of voices, and among the groups surging
about him Odo noticed a number of the Duke's sbirri making their way
quietly through the crowd. The notary of the Holy Office advanced toward
Heiligenstern, who had placed himself against the wall, with one arm
flung about his trembling acolyte. The Duchess, her boy still clasped
against her, remained proudly seated; but her eyes met Odo's in a glance
of terrified entreaty, and at the same instant he felt a clutch on his
sleeve and heard Cantapresto's whisper.

"Cavaliere, a boat waits at the landing below the tanners' lane. The
shortest way to it is through the gardens and your excellency will find
the gate beyond the Chinese pavilion unlocked."

He had vanished before Odo could look round. The latter still wavered;
but as he did so he caught Trescorre's face through the crowd. The
minister's eye was fixed on him; and the discovery was enough to make
him plunge through the narrow wake left by Cantapresto's retreat.

Odo made his way unhindered to the ante-room, which was also thronged,
ecclesiastics, servants and even beggars from the courtyard jostling
each other in their struggle to see what was going forward. The
confusion favoured his escape, and a moment later he was hastening down
the tapestry gallery and through the vacant corridors of the palace. He
was familiar with half-a-dozen short-cuts across this network of
passages; but in his bewilderment he pressed on down the great stairs
and across the echoing guard-room that opened on the terrace. A drowsy
sentinel challenged him; and on Odo's explaining that he sought to
leave, and not to enter, the palace, replied that he had his Highness's
orders to let no one out that night. For a moment Odo was at a loss;
then he remembered his passport. It seemed to him an interminable time
before the sentinel had scrutinised it by the light of a guttering
candle, and to his surprise he found himself in a cold sweat of fear.
The rattle of the storm simulated footsteps at his heels and he felt the
blind rage of a man within shot of invisible foes.

The passport restored, he plunged out into the night. It was pitch-black
in the gardens and the rain drove down with the guttural rush of a
midsummer storm. So fierce was its fall that it seemed to suck up the
earth in its black eddies, and he felt himself swept along over a
heaving hissing surface, with wet boughs lashing out at him as he fled.
From one terrace to another he dropped to l