"Look at these fetters," returned Thames, holding up his manacled wrists; "they were put on by my uncle's command. Nothing at all. She sat in a chair in the parlour and regarded the darkening sky through the small casement window. He laughed lightly. " "Not quite," rejoined the thief-taker, significantly. ’ ‘A dagger, is it then?’ The girl froze. Already the seed of a tender dream was stirring. Her father, Bartolomeo, was a well-respected member of the Arte di Calimala: the Wool Makers Guild in Mantua.
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