"He is much more completely in ours," answered Arisa. "The servants believe that his friends come to play dice. And so they do. But they come for something more serious."
Aristarchi moved his massive head suddenly to an attitude of profound attention.
"They are plotting against the Republic," whispered Arisa. "I can hear all they say."
"Are you sure?"
"I tell you I can hear every word. I can almost see them. Look here. Come with me."
She rose and he followed her to the corner of the room where the small silver lamp burned steadily before an image of Saint Mark, and above a heavy kneeling-stool.
"The foot moves," she said, and she was already on her knees on the floor, pushing the step.
It slid back with the soft sound Contarini had heard before he came upstairs. The upper part of the woodwork was built into the wall.
"They meet in the place below this," Arisa said. "When they are there, I can see a glimmer of light. I cannot get my head in. It is too narrow, but I hear as if I were with them."
"How did you find this out?" asked Aristarchi on the floor beside her, and reaching down into the dark space to explore it with his hand. "It is deep," he continued, without waiting for an answer. "There may be some passage by which one can get down."