"So you think that you have news that might affect me? /Corpo di Bacco/!
I am curious to learn what?"

"I may be mistaken--that depends on your answer to one question. Do you
know the Count of Peschiera?"

Riccabocca winced, and turned pale. He could not baffle the watchful eye
of the questioner.

"Enough," said Randal; "I see that I am right. Believe in my sincerity.
I speak but to warn and to serve you. The count seeks to discover the
retreat of a countryman and kinsman of his own."

"And for what end?" cried Riccabocca, thrown off his guard, and his
breast dilated, his crest rose, and his eye flashed; valour and defiance
broke from habitual caution and self-control. "But--pooh!" he added,
striving to regain his ordinary and half-ironical calm, "it matters not
to me. I grant, sir, that I know the Count di Peschiera; but what has
Dr. Riccabocca to do with the kinsman of so grand a personage?"

"Dr. Riccabocca--nothing. But--" here Randal put his lip close to the
Italian's ear, and whispered a brief sentence. Then retreating a step,
but laying his hand on the exile's shoulder, he added, "Need I say that
your secret is safe with me?"

Riccabocca made no answer. His eyes rested on the ground musingly.

Randal continued, "And I shall esteem it the highest honour you can
bestow on me, to be permitted to assist you in forestalling danger."