At Tomaso's words, Conrad raised his arched eyebrows.
"Order? To thee, maybe; thou art a boy, and of humble station. I am Von Schulembourg: orders scarcely tally with that name."
He drew his mantle over his despised doublet, and stepped to the door, putting Tomaso aside and unheeding his entreaties.
"Calm thyself, I shall be back long before the grim Veronese!" he said airily. "Were there light enough, there would be time to learn the game before he comes again."
"I will learn from no one who so little knows his duty," cried Tomaso in hot wrath.
But it was as impossible to anger Conrad as to stop him, and with a smile on his lips and a good-humored wave of his hand, he was gone.
Gone, absolutely gone, out of sight, into the heart of danger and at the crucial moment, for a set of chessmen and for a lady's love-gift.
After an undecided pause of utter vexation, Tomaso could not resist the impulse to start in pursuit after him. But Count Conrad was fleet of foot; he had disappeared, and Tomaso dared follow no farther, for Francisco might return at any moment, and to find them both gone would make bad worse.
And scarcely had he re-entered the hut before he heard the sound of horses ridden cautiously, and in a few moments more Francisco turned into the open.
He was mounted, Vittore in front of him, on a powerful black horse, and leading two others, and his face was animated with his triumph.