He was like a wrestler ready to get his hold with a
spring.
"I want some more money," Contarini was saying, in explanation. "They
said they would follow me if I stayed too long, so I have locked them
in! I think I shall keep them waiting a while. What do you say, love?"
He laughed again, aloud, and on the other side of the curtain Aristarchi
grinned from ear to ear and noiselessly loosened the black sash he wore
round his waist. For once in his life, as Zorzi would have said, he had
not a coil of rope at hand when he needed it, but the sash was strong
and would serve the purpose. He pushed the curtain aside, a very little,
in order to see before springing.
Contarini stood half turned away from the door, clasping Arisa to his
breast and kissing her hair. The next moment he was sprawling on the
floor, face downwards, and Arisa was pressing one of the soft cushions
from the divan upon his head to smother his cries, while Aristarchi
bound his hands firmly together behind him with one end of the long
sash, and in spite of his desperate struggle got a turn with the rest
round both his feet, drew them back as far as he could and hitched the
end twice. Jacopo was now perfectly helpless, but he was not yet dumb.
Aristarchi had brought his tools with him, in the bosom of his doublet.
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