amethyst was glowing, fell lightly on my shoulder. He lowered his voice
"You are the man, the one man in Italy, whose interests are bound up with
mine in this; therefore are you the one man to whom I can entrust that
package."

"I?" I gasped in amazement--as well I might, for what interests had
Boccadoro, the Fool, in common with Cesare Borgia, Cardinal of Valencia?

"You," he answered vehemently, "you, Lazzaro Biancomonte of Biancomonte,
whose father Costanzo of Pesaro stripped of his domains. The matters in
those papers mean the ruin of the Lord of Pesaro. We are all but ripe to
strike at him from Rome and when we strike he shall be so disfigured by
the blow that all Italy shall hold its sides to laugh at the sorry figure
he will cut. I would not say so much to any other living man but you and
if I tell it you it is because I need your aid."

"The lion and mouse," I murmured.

"Why yes, if you will."

"And this man is the husband of your sister!" I exclaimed, almost
involuntarily.

"Does that imply a doubt of what I have said?" he flashed, his head
thrown back, his brows drawn suddenly together.

"No, no," I hastened to assure him. He smiled softly.

"Maddonna Lucrezia knows all--or nearly all. Of what else she may need to
learn, that letter will inform her. It is the last thread, the last knot