Visconti did not stint his sister for money, and she might pay well. Still, dare he let her know he spied?
Then his thoughts went to Isotta d'Este, and he wondered, with some interest, what her fate would be.
In open day Isotta d'Este had been captured; all Europe knew she was his prisoner; Tuscany and the Empire already looked with interest on the Duke of Milan's growing power, and that Duke a usurper. Visconti had to step warily.
Still busy with his thoughts, the secretary had reached the door, when it opened and the ancient Luisa, Isotta's prison attendant and spy, entered, glancing expectantly around.
Giannotto looked at her slowly; he hated her—indeed, he hated most people, but she in particular, for she equaled him in servile cunning and surpassed him in greed.
"I would see the Duke," she said, looking at him mistrustfully.
"Thou canst not see him," returned the secretary, "for he is not here."
But old Luisa seated herself calmly on one of the black-backed chairs. "I will not take thy word for what I can or cannot do," she said. "I have important tidings for his ear alone."
Giannotto longingly wondered if it were possible to win her news from her and share in the reward.