"Well?"
"Pardon me, Excellency. If I had known, not for worlds would I have called you—"
"Come, come my Calabressa," said the other, good-naturedly. "No more apologies. What is it you have to say?—the proposal made by the Cardinal? Yes; we know about that."
"And it has not been accepted?—the decree remains?"
"You waste your breath, my friend. The decree remains, certainly. We are not children; we do not play. What more, my Calabressa?"
But Calabressa had to collect his thoughts. Then he said, slowly,
"It occurred to me when I was in England—there was a poor devil there who would have thrown away his life in a useless act of revenge—well—"
"Well, you brought him over here," said the other, interrupting him. "Your object? Ah, Lind and you being old comrades; and Lind appearing to you to be in a difficulty. But did Lind approve?"
"Not quite," said Calabressa, still hesitating. "He allowed us to try. He was doubtful himself."
"I should have thought so," said the other, ironically. "No, good Calabressa; we cannot accept the services of a maniac. The night has got dark; I cannot see whether you are surprised. How do we know? The man Kirski