"Could you leave Florence at a moment's notice?"
"It is a matter of funds."
"They will be provided."
"Then, yes."
"Enough! To-morrow a man will call on you, precisely at noontide, with a letter. I want that letter delivered into the hands of the Cardinal of Rouen at Rome. It is a secret matter, and if you fail in it you may forfeit your life. If you succeed, his eminence will give you further occupation. Do you accept?"
"Yes."
As I said this we again heard the creaking noise, and Machiavelli jumped up as agilely as a panther, and sprung to the door behind the arras. It was open; but no one was there.
"Maldetto!" he exclaimed. "Signore, there are spies in my own house--help me to tear down this tapestry."
I did so, and in a few minutes we laid bare the side of the room, and piled the tapestry in a heap against a bookshelf.
"That is better," Machiavelli said, "you see--the spy, whoever he is, must have a master key. There is no use going into the passage after him; but for the present I fancy we are safe. I must have a bolt put on and keep a watch. To resume business however. You say you accept, and only need funds."