And the blind man turned his head to the right and to the left, almost as though looking out to see if they were unwatched.

"Yes; the prison yard is only the other side of the gate. Now that gate is kept by a porter who is already in our interest."

"Good, good, Tomaso!" quoth the blind man.

"Now, listen."

"Go on," returned the blind man, in an eager tone.

"At noon the prisoners are in the yard. If we could but get that gate open for an instant, and have our men ready hereabouts for a rush--"

"Yes, yes."

"Who can tell what may happen?"

"Good again--good again! ha, ha, ha! that's brave, that is. Why, the mob of idle sightseers who crowd about the prison gates at noon to watch the prisoners might all be poor blind wretches or helpless cripples like you and I."

"Of course."

"And if the gate is left open but one instant--a single inch, no more-- why, worlds might be done."

"A horse ready saddled near at hand might be worth thinking of."

"True."

"And a small keg of gunpowder blown up under the archway by the waterside entrance would divert attention."

"Tomaso," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the blind man, "you're born to be a captain of brigands some day!"

CHAPTER VII.

HOW TOMASO HELPED HIS FRIENDS IN TROUBLE--THE SKIRMISH IN THE PRISON--MATHIAS THE BRIGAND.

Tomaso, before the day was over, changed his garments and abandoned crutch and stick, and when he turned out with flaxen-dyed hair and spectacles, and presented himself at the other great entrance of the prison, as a German traveller who desired to go over the place, no one could possibly have imagined it to be the old cripple whose paternal lamentation had so touched the doorkeeper's heart.

"You have got here a notorious brigand, as I have heard tell," said the visitor.

"We have, sir," was the governor's reply; "a very remarkable man he is, too."

"Ah, so I have heard," said the visitor. "He is called Demetrius, I believe?"

"Nay; his name is Mathias."

The visitor looked surprised at this information.

"Mathias--Mathias!" he repeated to himself. "I was misinformed, then. I certainly thought that his name was Demetrius."

The governor smiled.

"You may be right, all the same," said he.

"How so?"

"Why, Mathias is but his avowed name; he may be known by a dozen different _aliases_."

"Is it possible?" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the sham German traveller.

"Indeed it is. These robbers are mostly adepts at disguise. Would you like to see this Mathias?" demanded the governor, courteously.

"Vastly."

"Well, sir, I'll only warn you of one thing."

"Indeed! What is it?"

"A disappointment awaits you in this."

"How so?"

"Instead of seeing a ferocious fellow, such as you might expect, Mathias is really a very pleasant and innocent-looking man."

The governor of the prison then led the visitors through the long stone corridors of the place where Mathias was confined.

They stopped before a door of great thickness, heavily barred, and studded with iron bolts and nails.

The governor tapped at a small grated trap in the door, and it was pulled aside.

At the grating a broad-shouldered fellow appeared, who touched his cap at the visitors.

"So that is Mathias," said the German gentleman.

"No, no," said the governor; "that is the gaoler who is shut up with him."

"What for?"

"So that he might be watched night and day; the authorities have doomed him to--"

"To what?"

"To death," replied the governor, in a low but impressive voice.

"He is young."

"In years, yes," answered the governor, "but old in crime. This man has been guilty of nearly every crime under the sun--brigandage is one of his least offences. His last exploit, however, is the worst."