CHAPTER XIII
Zorzi swung himself along the dark corridor on his crutches after Pasquale, who opened the outer door with his usual deliberation. A little man stood outside in grey hose and a servant's dark coat, gathered in at the waist by a leathern belt. He was clean shaven and his hair was cropped close to his head, which was bare, for he held his black hat in his hand. Zorzi did not like his face. He waited for Zorzi to speak first.
"Have you a message for me?" asked the Dalmatian. "I am Zorzi."
"That is the name, sir," answered the man respectfully. "My master begs the honour and pleasure of your company this evening, as usual."
"Where?" asked Zorzi.
"My master said that you would know the place, sir, having been there before."
"What is your master's name?"
"The Angel," answered the man promptly, keeping his eyes on Zorzi's face.
The latter nodded, and the servant at once made an awkward obeisance preparatory to going away.