A Five-Minute Story of Black Magic
The Devil's Pay
By August W. Derleth
The gondola thudded against the dock and a man jumped out. He drew his cloak about liim, and the rings on his fingers flashed in the moonlight as he turned to the gondolier.
"I shall be gone perhaps for hours, Messer."
"No matter, Magnificent. I am at your command. I shall wait if need be until the dawn of the second day."
"Then wait."
He turned and plunged into the shadows, which seemed to reach out to engulf him. He walked swiftly, surely. His face was heavily veiled and his long black cloak reached to his ankles. The few pedestrians who passed him turned and stared for a moment but went on, failing to comprehend his mutterings. The path was none too smooth, and more than once the man from the gondola stumbled over the cobblestones. At length he modified his pace and began to scrutinize the houses about him. He stopped before a low structure squatting before him like an ugly, repulsive denizen of darkness. He raised his hand to rap upon the panel of the door, but before he could do so, it swung inward.
"Come," a voice bade him from the darkness, and he entered. At the farther end of the long hall he could discern a feeble light issuing from beneath the folds of a heavy curtain.
"Follow," came the voice again, and he felt his way along the wall to where the curtain was, and when he reached it, it was swept aside and the light fell upon him and enveloped him. He stepped into the room that was thus disclosed, and the curtain fell again into place. Facing him was a man as repellent as the dwelling in which he lived. He was a short man, and his beady eyes flashed venomously at the visitor. He attempted to smile, but his sensual lips curled into a sneer which mocked the attempt. He slowly lowered the flambeau in the sconce which he had held at arm's length to the table behind him, and he endeavored to pierce the veil which covered his visitor's face.
The Duke of Venice raised the veil and moved forward.
"Messer Duca!" gasped the magician, and his face paled a trifle. "What is the cause for this honor, if I may so much as ask, Magnificent?"
The duke sank into a chair and gazed meditatively at the wizard before him.
"I have an enemy, Messer Gamani ." He glanced meaningly at his host.
"Ah, Excellency. Poisons? Or perhaps a keen stiletto," he answered, quick at comprehension.
"No. Neither will do. They avail me nought. I have used them. I have had my enemy set upon, but he turned and slaughtered my men and escaped without so much as a scratch. Diavolo! I have sent him wines diluted with the best of poisons, but they have gone into the canals of Venice. Ï have sent him a gorgeous gown saturated with a deadly poison,
but he allowed a lackey to wear it and
