Standing on the steps of the old castle, della Scala looked down on his diminished army; at least they were purged of traitors, he thought grimly; what remained were Veronese, and true.

At the news of Carrara’s treachery, d’Este had marched aside to Mantua, whither Vincenzo had been sent.

The sun was dazzling down, a glory of gold, sparkling on the still wet leaves, and the brilliant colours of the pennons and banners that floated above the tents.

Della Scala greeted Ligozzi and his son.

Tomaso would have spoken eagerly, but his father hushed him. ‘The news is most important, my lord,’ he said, ‘best tell it you in private.’ Then, unable to restrain himself, he added in a whisper: ‘Oh, the saints and angels be praised, I think we have Milan!’

Mastino della Scala, as he led the way back to the castle, trembled, almost with awe. It was a sign from heaven.

As they gained the chamber, and Ligozzi closed the door, Tomaso burst out into his tale, half-crazy with delight. ‘It seems you have success,’ said Mastino quietly.

But he seated himself at the extemporized table, and with his hand shaded his face; it was almost more than he could bear. ‘The passage leads into Milan,’ said Ligozzi breathlessly. ‘It is large enough to admit an army, and opens into the house of one who is our friend. That, my lord, is why we have been so long. The good fortune is miraculous, for we were brought out into the house of a man mad against Visconti, and thinking of nothing but revenge. He alone knows of this passage, and through it will admit your men.’

‘Ah!’ Mastino drew a deep breath and raised his eyes. ‘God hath heard me, Ligozzi.’

‘It was true,’ cried Ligozzi. ‘Oh, lord, he was indeed here. Only this morning he reentered Milan, Carrara’s army behind him; returned in time to stay his sister, who loathes her enforced marriage, and — and —’ he suddenly faltered in his recital as Tomaso laid his hand upon his shoulder.

Mastino looked at them keenly.

‘And what?’ he asked,

‘I was going to say, lord, that in his absence, Valentine Visconti, trying to escape, was recaptured by the Duke himself in this Agnolo’s house.’

‘Is it for that he hates Visconti?’ asked della Scala.

‘Nay, my lord, he hath other wrongs,’ and Ligozzi proceeded to relate the tale the little painter had poured into his ears that morning.

‘“Not for naught did I conceal that passage!” he cried to me. My lord, truly it was not for naught, seeing we shall thereby slay Visconti!

‘This man, Agnolo, he is to be trusted?’ said Mastino.

‘If ever a man was! He would see Milan in ashes, and Visconti were among them.’

‘And the girl?’

‘I did not see the girl, but methinks she has the same cause to hate Visconti.’

‘And that no one should know of this passage; it is strange,’ mused della Scala. ‘Thou art sure there is no trap, Ligozzi? Much disappointment makes me wary.’

‘I will stake my life there is no trap, my lord, and that this man, Agnolo Vistarnini, is dealing with the truth.’

‘Vistarnini,’ repeated Mastino. ‘Methinks I know the name — a painter, didst thou say?’

‘A painter, my lord; the house is near the western gate.’

‘The western gate! I remember. It was the day I found von Schulembourg. Truly I think we may trust the man that I remember,’ and Mastino faintly smiled. ‘There is no guile in him — nor in his daughter, poor lady. She was happy then!’

‘Visconti has left a guard of soldiers to protect the house; but not so many that they will not be easily disp............