"Now, I had almost forgot, my lord," she said, pausing with a smile. "My page, his sister and his brother, would leave Milan to-morrow for Brescia—what for, Adrian? Indeed, I have forgot—but I have the Duke's permission, and would only ask your countersign upon this passport."
She spread before the captain a parchment bearing Visconti's signature.
"This is no time to be leaving Milan, boy," said de Lana.
"Our father is sore sick at Brescia," returned Adrian. "Dying, my lord."
De Lana smiled.
"A long and dangerous journey to make for a sick father."
"There is money in the matter for these children, and it is my pleasure," said Valentine.
De Lana bent over the parchment, and affixed his name, and in that second, Valentine glancing at Giannotto, their eyes met, and the secretary understood. He had meant to hasten to Visconti's rooms; he meant now not to. De Lana gave the parchment back, and Valentine handed it to Adrian.
"And now, Lord d'Orleans, will you come with us to Isotta's prison?"