said Glyndon, in a tremulous and hollow tone.

"The general who calculates on the victory does not fight in person,"
answered Zicci. "But enough of this. Meet me at midnight by the
seashore, half a mile to the left of your hotel,--you will know the spot
by a rude pillar, the only one near--, to which a broken chain is
attached. There and then will be the crisis of your fate; go. I have
business here yet,--remember, Isabel is still in the house of the dead
man."

As Glyndon yet hesitated, strange thoughts, doubts, and fears that
longed for speech crowding within him, Mascari approached; and Zicci,
turning to the Italian and waving his hand to Glyndon, drew the former
aside. Glyndon slowly departed.

"Mascari," said Zicci, "your patron is no more. Your services will be
valueless to his heir,--a sober man, whom poverty has preserved from
vice. For yourself, thank me that I do not give you up to the
executioner,--recollect the wine of Cyprus. Well, never tremble, man,
it could not act on me, though it might re-act on others,--in that it is
a common type of crime. I forgive you; and if the wine should kill me,
I promise you that my ghost shall not haunt so worshipful a penitent.
Enough of this. Conduct me to the chamber of Isabel di Pisani; you have
no further need of her. The death of the jailer opens the cell of the
captive. Be quick,--I would be gone." Mascari muttered some inaudible
words, bowed low, and led the way to the chamber in which Isabel was
confined.