face. "The knowledge will come to him too late."

The new-comer threw back his head, and a look that was half wonder, half
enlightenment gleamed in the black depths of his imperious eyes. He took
a deep breath.

"It would seem, sirs, that I was right," said he, with a touch of
sternness, "and that treason is indeed your business."

"My Lord of Aquila," Fabrizio answered him, "we are traitors to a man
that we may remain faithful and loyal to a State."

"What State?" barked the Lord of Aquila contemptuously.

"The Duchy of Babbiano," came the answer.

"You would be false to the Duke that you may be faithful to the Duchy?"
he questioned, scorn running ever stronger in his voice. "Sirs, it is a
riddle I'll not pretend to solve."

There fell a pause in which they eyed one another, and their glances were
almost as the glances of baffled men. They had not looked for such a
tone from him, and they questioned with their eyes and minds the wisdom
of going further. At last, with a half-sigh, Fabrizio da Lodi turned
once more to Aquila.

"Lord Count," he began, in a calm, impressive voice, "I am an old man;
the name I bear and the family from which I spring are honourable alike.
You cannot think so vilely of me as to opine that in my old age I should
do aught to smirch the fair fame of the one or of the other. To be named