This is serious. Keep
quiet and do as I tell you."
Tony was no chicken-heart. He had something of a name for pugnacity
among the lads of his own age at home, and was not the man to stand
in Venice what he would have resented in Salem; but the devil of it
was that this black fellow seemed to be pointing to the letter in
his breast; and this suspicion was confirmed by the Count's agitated
whisper.
"This is one of the agents of the Ten.--For God's sake, no outcry."
He exchanged a word or two with the mace-bearer and again turned to
Tony. "You have been seen concealing a letter about your person--"
"And what of that?" says Tony furiously.
"Gently, gently, my master. A letter handed to you by the page of
Donna Polixena Cador.--A black business! Oh, a very black business!
This Cador is one of the most powerful nobles in Venice--I beseech
you, not a word, sir! Let me think--deliberate--"
His hand on Tony's shoulder, he carried on a rapid dialogue with the
potentate in the cocked hat.
"I am sorry, sir--but our young ladies of rank are as jealously
guarded as the Grand Turk's wives, and you must be answerable for
this scandal. The best I can do is to have you taken privately to
the Palazzo Cador, instead of being brought before the Council. I
have pleaded your youth and inexperience"--Tony winced at this--"and
I think the business may still be arranged."
Meanwhile the agent of the Ten had yielded his place to a
sharp-featured shabby-looking fellow in black, dressed somewhat like
a lawyer's clerk, who laid a grimy hand on Tony's arm, and with many
apologetic gestures steered him through the crowd to the doors of
the church.
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