Pignaver had listened attentively, and at once asked for the names and the address of the Bravi.
'They are known as Trombin and Gambardella,' said the Signor; 'they are now in Venice, and are generally to be heard of at the eating-house of Markos, the Samian money-lender and wine-dealer. I dare say you know where his place is? Not far from the Rialto, on this side——'
'In what is left of the old Quirini Palace, where they sell poultry downstairs?' asked Pignaver.
'Precisely. I see you are acquainted with the resort. I have, in fact, been there myself—on a matter of duty, of course.'
'Of course,' echoed the Senator. 'I have only heard of it, but I think I can find it.'
'I am sure you can,' assented the Signor, without a smile.
Pignaver had not only heard of the eating-house, but he had been there more than once, and knew the taste of the famous pilaf and the flavour of the old wine of Samos as well as anybody. He had even sat in the recess where the two gentlemen of fortune were at that moment supping. He had worn a mask, it is true, and by some mistake a lady had sat down at the same small table a moment after he had come, and he had fallen into conversation with her. But it was not necessary to tell this to the Signor.
The latter promised again to have a thorough search made through the city for Ortensia and Pina, and wrote down the descriptions Pignaver gave him. The nurse was described as 'a serving-woman, with grey eyes, and black hair turning grey at the temples, whose manners were rather above her station, and who had once been handsome. Age: forty-three. Mark: the thumb of the right hand had been broken and was distorted.'
'By the thumb-screw, I suppose,' observed the Signor in a business-like tone.
'It certainly looks like it,' answered the Senator indifferently.