“What was it?” muttered Buckhart. “Did some one throw Reggio a coin?”
Dick grasped the arm of his bosom friend.
“Look!” he breathed. “Look at Reggio!”
The gondolier had not moved after the thing dropped at his feet. He was poised with his body swayed backward a little, and he seemed to be gazing with wide-open eyes at the mysterious object lying within ten inches of his feet. His attitude was expressive of the greatest horror.
“Whatever does it mean?” speculated the Texan. “He certain looks a whole lot alarmed.”
Dick started to speak to the gondolier, but checked himself and continued to watch the man.
Onward glided the boat, out into the full flood of moonlight.
Then the man at the oar could plainly see the thing that had been cast before him. Slowly, slowly, as if dreading to touch it, yet forcing himself to perform the act, Reggio stooped and picked it up.
“At last!” he muttered, with a choking sound—“at last it has come to me!”
“What is it?” questioned Dick.