“Is our reconnoitrer returned?” asked the count of the two who remained.
“He is.”
“What news brings he? Does he know the cause of the murderous attack at the festival of the French cardinal? Yet why do I ask you? Make yourselves scarce, and let him come to speak for himself!”
The officers were no sooner gone, than a wild-looking, bearded churl made his appearance upon the threshold of the door and greeted the count with a grinning laugh.
“What know you of the murderous attack?” asked the count, in Italian.
“A friend of mine was charged with the affair,” said the bravo. “He is in the pay of the most holy Cardinal Albani. We served long together under the same chief, and I know him intimately. He carries the most skilful dagger in all Rome, and it is the greatest wonder that he missed on this occasion.”
“Was it done by order of the cardinal?”
“No! The lord cardinal had lent this bravo to the celebrated improvisatrice Corilla—the order came from her.”
“It is well!” said the count. “Do you know all the bravi in Rome?”
“All, your excellency. They are all my good friends.”