Presently hurrying round a corner they met a man. He stopped irresolute at sight of them.
The man was bareheaded, and his dripping hair glistened in the moonlight; and at the next step they saw his clothes were drenched with water.
“Here he is,” cried one of the young men, unacquainted with Gerard's face and figure.
The stranger turned instantly and fled.
They ran after him might and main, Andrea leading, and the princess's lackey next.
Andrea gained on him; but in a moment he twisted up a narrow alley. Andrea shot by, unable to check himself; and the pursuers soon found themselves in a labyrinth in which it was vain to pursue a quickfooted fugitive who knew every inch of it, and could now only be followed by the ear.
They returned to their companions, and found them standing on the spot where the man had stood, and utterly confounded. For Pietro had assured them that the fugitive had neither the features nor the stature of Gerard.
“Are ye verily sure?” said they. “He had been in the river. Why, in the saints' names, fled he at our approach?”
Then said Vanucci, “Friends, methinks this has nought to do with him we seek. What shall we do, Andrea?”
Here the lackey put in his word. “Let us track him to the water's side, to make sure. See, he hath come dripping all the way.”