"Well?" he asked. "What think you?"
"This is a master-stroke of temptation, my lord. You have always found craft a good servant."
"It would not serve me well in thee," said Visconti with a sudden glance. "Now, see to it that parchment is dispatched, Giannotto, and by a trusty messenger, and with no delay."
"I will give it to Ricardo with my own hands, my lord," said Giannotto. "He is the best man we have since Filippo was wounded this morning in a skirmish by the western gate."
"The western gate?" Visconti looked up quickly.
"It was not worth while bringing to your notice, my lord. A band of the enemy's soldiers have been skirmishing there."
"They were beaten off without harm to anyone within the gates?"
"The gates were not forced, nor anyone injured—or I should have acquainted you, my lord," and he waited for possibly some mark of appreciation; but the Duke motioned curtly to the roll he held, and Giannotto crept out with bowed shoulders. As the tapestry fell into place behind him, Visconti approached the black bureau between the windows, and unlocked one of the long drawers.
In its dusky recess lay a gold box, and Visconti took it out, handling it carefully.