No man knew who the Council of Three were--not even the Senate, not even the Doge; the members of that dread tribunal met at night in a chamber to themselves, masked, and robed from head to foot in scarlet cloaks, and did not even know each other, unless by voice.

It was their duty to judge heinous political crimes, and from their sentence there was no appeal.

A nod to the executioner was sufficient.

The doomed man was marched down a hall and out at a door-way into the covered Bridge of Sighs, through it and into the dungeon and unto his death.

At no time in his transit was he visible to any save his conductor.