"Something to tell me, sayest thou?" he asked.
Tomaso's eyes were full of tears. For some moments he could not find his voice.
"He hath discovered some secret passage; useless, I fear me," said his father.
"Nay, father, I tell thee it leadeth to the city! To-day, lord, as I explored it, I found stored there some rolls of silk, new and clean; together with some earths such as I have heard say painters use."
Della Scala started. He found the news not so unimportant as Ligozzi had.
"Go on, Tomaso," he said, and kept his half-closed eyes upon the ground.
"Indeed, my lord, it must be some old subway into Milan. 'Tis wide enough to admit six abreast, and recently used, as it opens some mile and a half outside the city. I have not yet penetrated to the extremity. Lord, think of it—it must open into Milan!"
Della Scala's worn face flushed involuntarily, his eyes turned to the closed door of the chapel. Had he belied the stone angels—the extinguished lamps?
"This seems great news, Tomaso," he said slowly. "I will see into it." He moved as he spoke. "My other gauntlet, Ligozzi?"
"I cannot see it, lord."