One hour later, Andrea came home. Signora Giovanna received him at the top of the stairs with an almost motherly concern, and Marietta also seemed to have been anxiously expecting him. They told him that the sbirri had been searching his room in his absence, but had found everything to be all right, matching the favourable testimony which she, the landlady, had personally given concerning her lodger. The calm manner in which Andrea listed to her report assured her completely that her fear had been unnecessary and that the visit from the police had been a formality rather than anything else. The good woman impressed numerous warnings and precautions on him, how he had to talk and act to stay clear of any suspicion in these evil times. "They'll even tighten their control," the old woman sighed, "for they know very well: A gloved cat won't catch any mice, and that's also a true saying, that the dead shall make the living see. Therefore, be careful, dear sir, and trust no one who'd approach you. You don't know the worst kinds of people yet, how kind-hearted they can pretend to be, but believe in me: For someone to double-cross you, you've got to trust him first. You'd better not eat at an inn, but let us prepare for you at home whatever we can. You're looking exhausted. Rest on the bed for a while; you aren't accustomed to walking around."
During all of this speech, Marietta gave him imploring looks and, standing next to her mother, stared in his pale, serious face. He assured them that he was well, asked for bread and wine, and, after it had been brought to him, was not seen for the rest of the day.
Early in the next morning, when he was still lying in bed, Samuele entered his room. "If you're interested," he said, "to pocket at least fourteen ducats a month, so come with me; all has been arranged, and I think you won't go there in vain."
"Has the new inquisitor of the state been elected yet?" asked
Andrea.
"So it seems."
"And no lead on the conspiracy yet?"
"No lead yet. The shock among the aristocracy is great. They lock themselves into their houses and suspect every visitor to be a spy of the Ten or of the tribunal. One after another of the foreign ambassadors has called on the doge, made the most solemn assurances of his outrage about the crime, and offered his help in the discovery of the perpetrator. From now on, the three men of the tribunal will be even more secretive about their identities than before, and, as I believe, a price shall be put on the murderer's head, which would put a poor devil in the money for quite a number of years. Keep your eyes open, Signore Andrea! Perhaps, we'll both soon drink a better wine together, than at that time in that tavern!"
Without a word, Andrea had dressed, and was now following his benefactor, who was incessantly chatting, to the Doges' Palace. Samuele was well known here. He knocked at an inconspicuous door in the yard, whispered a word into the ear of the servant who opened it, and politely let Andrea walk ahead of him up a small staircase. After they had walked through a long, almost dark passage upstairs, and had answered to several men bearing halberds, they were shown into a not so big chamber with a window, which opened onto the yard and was half covered by a dark curtain. In the back of the room, three men paced up and down, whispering to one another, their faces covered by masks, under which only the tips of their beards stuck out. A fourth man, without a mask, sat at a table and wrote by the light of a single candle.
He looked up, when Samuele appeared with Andrea on the threshold. It seemed as if the three others were not paying any attention to the visitors, but were rather busy in continuing their conversation.
"You're bringing the stranger, you told us about?" the secretary asked.