Dasso leapt to his feet with an oath.
"Enrico's gone," he said hoarsely, and made for the door. Mozara followed, and in a moment the men, assisted by the under-groom, were saddling Dasso's horse. Gaspar's own mare was on a pillar-rein where he had left her. A moment more and the two men were riding with loose rein up the cobbled street that led to the Palace.
The frightened inhabitants, who were conversing in little groups, scattered to right and left, and windows were opened and heads thrust out as the horsemen clattered past. The Palace gates were open, and dashing through them they pulled up their smoking horses at the great doors.
In the hall the servants, male and female, were crowded, their faces showing inactive stupidity. They fell apart and gave room for Dasso and the lieutenant as they made their way up the wide marble staircase. Reaching the corridor above, they turned to the right in the direction of the death-chamber.
"This is unseemly conduct, Señor Dasso. My uncle is barely dead." Armand was standing before them, a naked blade in his hand.
The intruders fell back.
"Prince Armand—you here!"
"It seems so, gentlemen. This is a curious way to pay one's respect to the dead."
Gabriel Dasso stood with bowed head.
"I did not expect——"