It struck down a young Master Gorgio who in white beard and long grey hair went spying." She knew in her heart that he spoke the truth.

"He is dead ?" she asked in a voice that had a strange quietness.
"Not yet," he answered.

"There is time to wish him luck." She heard the ribald laugh with a sense of horror and loathing.

"The hand that brought him down may have been the hand of a Gorgio, but behind the hand was Jethro Fawe," she said in a voice grown passionate again.

"Where is he ?" she added.
"At his own house.