A half hour went by, and the green gondola's lead was reduced to a matter of yards. The comrades could see Mocenigo and his bravos standing on the deck with swords drawn. But the lights of Venice gleamed very close, barred at intervals by the dark mouths of the canals, and once in that network of tangled waterways the task of the pursuers would be redoubled.
"Up with them," cried Matteo. "A Byzant apiece to you, lads."
"Trust us, lord," gasped Beppo.
The gap was spanned as he spoke and their bow overlapped the green gondola's stern.
"Close in, close in," ordered Hugh.
The green gondola made shift to sheer off, but the attempt was hopeless; and in self-defence, Mocenigo's gondoliers were forced to withstand the attack of Beppo and Giacomo. The crack of meeting oars resounded with the clash of swords. Gunwale to gunwale the two craft lay, bobbing at every shock, and it required a clear head and a nimble foot to keep one's balance. But no thought of danger was in Hugh's mind when his blade crossed Mocenigo's.
"At last," he exulted. "I have seen more of your back than your face, Messer Assassin."
"It may be we will amend that, Messer Hugh," rejoined the Italian, fencing cautiously.
"It seems you fear me."
"Not so, good youth. But you have a way of being inconvenient—for a lad unspurred."