A knave whose knavery knew no limits would hardly have suited his ends.
"I do need a service, but it is no dark-corner work. It is a
considerable enterprise, and one in which, I think, you should prove the
very man I need."
"Let me know more," quoth Ercole grandiloquently.
"I need first your word that should the undertaking prove unsuited to
you, or beyond you, you will respect the matter, and keep it secret."
"Body of Satan! No corpse was ever half so dumb as I shall be."
"Excellent! Can you find me a score of stout fellows to form a bodyguard
and a garrison, who, in return for good quarters--perchance for some
weeks--and payment at four times the ordinary mercenaries' rate, will be
willing to take some risk, and chance even a brush with the Duke's
forces?"
Ercole blew out his mottled cheeks until Gonzaga feared that he would
burst them.
"It's outlawry!" he roared, when he had found his voice. "Outlawry, or
I'm a fool."
"Why, yes," confessed Gonzaga. "It is outlaw matter of a kind. But the
risk is slender."
"Can you tell me no more?"
"I dare not."
Ercole emptied his wine-cup at a draught and splashed the dregs on to the
floor. Then, setting down the empty vessel, he sat steeped in thought
awhile. Growing impatient:
"Well," cried Gonzaga at last, "can you help me? Can you find the men?"
"If you were to tell me more of the nature of this service you require, I
might find a hundred with ease."
"As I have said--I need but a score.
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