Who are they that meet at night?
They are thieves, or conspirators, or dice-players, or all three." Pasquale happened to have been right in two guesses out of three, and Zorzi thought it better to say nothing.

There was no fear that the surly old man would tell any one of the message; he had proved himself too good a friend to Zorzi to do anything which could possibly bring him into trouble, and Zorzi was willing to let him think what he pleased, rather than run the smallest risk of betraying the society of which he had been obliged to become a member.

But he was curious to know why Contarini kept such a singularly unprepossessing servant, and why, if he chose to keep him, he made use of him to deliver invitations.

The fellow had the look of a born criminal; he was just such a man as Zorzi had thought of when he had jestingly proposed to Giovanni to hire a murderer.

Indeed, the more Zorzi thought of his face, the more he was inclined to doubt that the man came from Contarini at all.
But in this he was mistaken.