"Well, he cannot go on for ever, and if he were to die, it is an end to the Borgia."
"Ho! ho!" he laughed, "it is an end to the Borgia--Cavaliere, your employers are mad. It will take not a little to break Cesare--Cesare Borgia, Duke of Romagna, Imola and Faenza, Marquis of Rimini, Count of Forli, Lord of Pesaro and Fano, Gonfaloniere of the Church--good for a low-born bastard--eh? Ho! ho! break Cesare! Not you."
"Stronger trees have fallen, signore--remember we have France, and the Florentines on our side, and twenty thousand men, under Tremouille and Trevulzio, are not twenty miles from you."
I was playing a risky game. If I did succeed in inducing this man to listen to my proposals, and he actually persuaded his cousin to do likewise, it would be a terrible blow to the Borgia. On the other hand I ran the immediate risk of being arrested, and kept a prisoner, or killed outright. But it was the only way to gain time, and look about me; and whilst Baglioni reflectively stroked his strange pet, making no reply to my last speech, I glanced cautiously but carefully around the room. Like the passage outside, the walls were hung with old armour and old flags. Time had defaced the pictures on the ceiling, and such furniture as there was, was old, and the coverings of the chairs and tables moth-eaten and wine stained. The stale odour of wine mingled with the must of a long untouched room, and everywhere, on the tables, on the chairs, and strewn here and there on the floor, were cards. Evidently the cavaliere had a weakness in this direction, and like lightning it flashed upon me, that if he were a gambler the game was probably in my hands, and I would drop policy and turn to the cards. My thoughts were interrupted by Baglioni, who broke the silence. "What evidence have you, to show you are the person you represent yourself to be?"
"I can offer you none. In matters like this one does not carry evidence about--but if you like to send a trusted messenger to Rome, to the Cardinal d'Amboise--see the reception he will get--or nearer still to Tremouille?"
"And why come to me?"
"Because of your influence with your cousin, and because you are a man who will play for a big stake," and I risked the shot. His eyes flashed, and his hand stopped in its movement through the fur of the bear.
"My influence with my cousin is--that," he snapped his fingers, "but a big stake--yes--I like playing for big stakes."
I stooped and picked up a card, holding it idly up between my finger and thumb.
"This, what I propose, is a bigger stake than you could ever get on the king, cavaliere," and with a twist of my wrist I sent the card from me, it hit the wall opposite with a smart tap, and then floated slowly and noiselessly down to the floor of the room.