At length they shot beneath a low bridge, and stopped at some steps
immediately beyond. Here one of the men, getting out, proceeded to act
as guide to the stranger. They had not far to go. They passed first of
all into a long, low, and foul-smelling archway, in the middle of which
was a narrow aperture protected by an iron gate. The man lit a candle,
opened the gate, and preceded his companion along a passage and up a
stone staircase. The atmosphere of the place was damp and sickly; the
staircase was not more than three feet in width; the feeble glimmer of
the candle did but little to dispel the darkness. Even that was
withdrawn; for the guide, having knocked thrice at a door, blew out the
candle, and retreated down-stairs.

"_The night is dark, brother._"

"_The dawn is near._"

Instantly the door was thrown open; the dark figure of a man was seen
against the light; he said, "Come in! come in!" and his hand was
outstretched. The stranger seemed greatly surprised.

"What, you, Calabressa!" he exclaimed. "Your time has not yet expired!"

"What, no? My faith, I have made it expire!" said the other, airily, and
introducing a rather badly pronounced French word or two into his
Italian. "But come in, come in; take a seat. You are early; you may have
to wait."

He was an odd-looking person, this tall, thin, elderly man, with the
flowing yellow-white hair and the albino eyes. There was a semi-military