"All I seek from the Emperor is his aid in my search," snapped Hugh, conscious of a growing feeling of resentment against this sly, oily creature, so ready of tongue, so elusive of facts.
"The Augustus is only too happy to aid one of his deliverers, Lord Hugh. I do not overstate, I trust, Great Sovereign?"
"Yes, yes—give him my aid—tell him what you please—what matter?" mumbled the Emperor. "I like not to talk of Sir James. I disappeared myself. Hee, hee, hee! Strange things happen to men who disappear."
Comnenus struck a silver bell in token that the audience was over, but Hugh held his ground.
"Hast undertaken, then, to furnish me with a charter from the Emperor certifying to my right to question any and all in Constantinople?" he pressed.
"Ay, Lord Hugh, that may be arranged, an you will. Certes, there will be no difficulty. 'Tis no light task to rearrange the affairs of an Empire brought nigh to ruin, but an you will have patience, you shall have every help we may summon for you."
He raised his hand to strike the gong again, but still Hugh refused to move.
"One question more. What hath become of one Mocenigo, a Venetian renegade who was in the service of the False Alexius?"
"Mocenigo?" fenced Comnenus, blinking owlishly.
"Ay, Andrea Mocenigo," returned Hugh impatiently. "You knew him, Lord Cæsar. He was in your company at Venice."