"The fiend for aught might make the same," replied Benilo. "What is your business here?"
"Watching over dead men's bones," replied the bravo doggedly.
"Never lie to the devil,—you will neither deceive him nor me! Not that I dispute any man's right to be hanged or stabbed—least of all thine, Don Giovan."
"'Tis for another to regulate all such honours," replied the bravo. "And it is an old saying, never trust a horse or a woman!"
Benilo started as if the bravo had read his thoughts.
"You prate in enigmas," he said after a pause. "I will be brief with you and plain. We should not scratch, when we tickle. I am looking for an honest rogue. I need a trusty and discreet varlet, who can keep his tongue between his teeth and forget not only his master's name, but his own likewise. Have you the quality?"
John of the Catacombs stared at the speaker as if at a loss to comprehend his meaning. Instead of answering he glanced uneasily in the direction of the river.
"Speak out, man, my time is brief," urged the Chamberlain, "I have learned to value your services even in the harm you have wrought, and if you will enter my service, you shall some day hang the keys of a nobler tower on your girdle than you ever dreamt of."
The bravo winced, but did not reply. Suddenly he raised his head as if listening. A sound resembling the faint splash of an oar broke the stillness. A yell vibrated through the air, a louder splash was heard, then all was deep silence as before.
"That sounded not like the prayer of a Christian soul departing," Benilo said with an involuntary shudder, noting the grin of satisfaction which passed over the outlaw's face. "What was that?"