The Pursuit Part 50

Your reverence found fault, a moment back, with my self-a.s.sumed status of judge. Are you going to borrow the cloak which you do not permit me to wear? You have heard both sides. To what proof can you refer a decision?"

The long, lean figure drew itself up very rigidly.

"I am a sinful man myself, Signor. I make no decisions. But I have been appealed to, as I understand, by those whom I find in your power. I shall not permit your restraint of them to continue. You can refer any grievance you have against them to properly const.i.tuted tribunals over there." He lifted his arm and pointed south to where storm and night hid Sicily.

He turned to Luigi.

"Emmanuele and I are, as you see, sodden to the skin. It may reach your great intelligence, by degrees, that we need warmth and refreshment."

The smuggler made an apologetic gesture.

"But certainly, Reverenza. There is in the house a fire. My poor provisions are at your service."

The priest looked towards Claire with another courtly doffing of his hat.

"And you, Signora, and you, Signor, will add to my felicity by sharing both with me?"

She looked at him gravely.

"They have not starved us; we had food a couple of hours ago," she said.

"But your company, here and to the mainland, is a boon straight from the hand of G.o.d."

He inclined his head in a.s.sent.

"I am His servant, Signora," he said. "I thank Him for permitting me to serve Him, in serving you. Shall we make our way to the house? The hour must be close on midnight."

He made a motion towards the path. He looked imperturbably at Landon, who, with Muhammed, still stood astride it.

"You appear to be blocking the lady's way, Signor," he said. "Not intentionally, I dare to hope."

Landon shrugged his shoulders and drew aside.

"On the contrary, your reverence. Not for worlds would I stand between you and refreshment--and sleep."

He looked at Muhammed with a half-sardonic, half-inquiring gaze as he spoke. And there was a faintly emphasized inflection on the last two words.

The Moor looked back at him impa.s.sively, and then drew aside with an obsequious droop of the head.

But to Claire and, to a less extent to Aylmer, there was a queer, indefinite sense of something which impended--something which racked them with suspicion in the att.i.tude of those about them. Landon's surrender was too facile; Luigi's deference too pliant; Muhammed's apathetic eyes were never less convincing of guilelessness. When they reached the cottage, and stood with Padre Sigismondi before the blaze in the great open hearth and watched the quick preparations which were being made to improvise a meal, the unreality of their surroundings seemed to grow in significance. No one interfered with them; no one even noticed them. Luigi set the table; Muhammed busied himself with the coffee-pot; Landon held the father's dripping garments to the blaze while their owner a.s.sumed a sailor's trousers and jersey in an adjoining room. It was too incredible, this sudden turning of tables. They looked at each other doubtfully.

Their speculations received a sudden interruption. The door opened to admit Miller.

He was half dressed. He blinked--it was apparent that he and sleep had parted company a short half minute before.

"I heard noises," he said, and then his glance fell upon the two who stood near the fireplace, side by side. His usual phlegm seemed to desert him. He gave an exclamation.

"You!" he cried. "You!"

He wheeled towards Landon.

"Will you explain?" he cried harshly. "What is happening?"

"I entertain guests--a small, but select, family party," grinned Landon.

The gray man stared at him with still unappeased surprise. Then, suddenly, his face cleared. He looked at Claire; he looked on beyond her to Aylmer.

"You have met his terms? You see the hopelessness of it all; you have been wise?"

His voice was smooth, now, and had lost its harsh tones of amazement. He purred his approbation.

Aylmer laughed.

"We have been wise, my dear Miller," he agreed. He laughed again as Padre Sigismondi briskly entered the room. He had the aspect of an ascetic but experienced mariner in his new garb. He bowed to Miller courteously but inquiringly. The inquiry, it was to be noticed, was directed in part towards Aylmer and his companion.

But Aylmer offered no introduction. He drew forward a chair, and placed it in front of the fire.

"A good roasting after your immersion? Let me prescribe that," he said.

The priest looked at him and then gave a cry of commiseration.

"But you yourself, Signor--you remain in your sodden clothes?"

"For a very simple reason, father," said Aylmer, smiling. "I was taken prisoner, but not my luggage. I stand up in my belongings."

The house began to resound with the recriminations which the priest addressed to Luigi. Why had he not provided the cavalier with a suitable change of raiment while his own clothes dried? Why had he not done this; why had he not done that?

The smuggler ran to and fro distractedly. A jersey came from one press.

A shirt from another. A cupboard supplied trousers; a deplorable collar which had had no recent acquaintance with a laundry was even offered and declined. Aylmer retired into the adjoining room, and Landon, on his return, with imperturbable aplomb received and began to dry the wet clothes he had taken off. Miller reviewed these proceedings with unqualified amazement. Offered no key to the position, he proceeded to probe for one.

"Your reverence has voyaged far?" he hazarded.

"More miles than I care to remember, Signor," said the other, courteously. "But ever, alas, in a circle. My peregrinations have been bounded, ever since my ordination, by Naples on the north and Palermo or Messina in the south. I see much earth and sky and water, especially the latter, but I add nothing to geography. I am amphibious, that is all."

His "ordination"? The gleam of discovery woke in Miller's eyes. A priest, was it? But the presence of Aylmer and Miss Van Arlen--how was that to be explained? And how far had the newcomer gauged the situation.

"Your reverence finds in us unexpected additions to your flock," he said. "The population of Salicudi has increased since you last visited it."

"To my very natural satisfaction," said Sigismondi, imperturbably. He looked at the steaming bowl of polenta and the coffee-pot which Luigi had set upon the table. Emmanuele came in, wrapped in a sheepskin coat and grinning at the food expectantly. His master greeted him with a nod.

"It appears that we are to feast and feast alone, my son," he said.

"These friends of ours insist on having dined two hours ago. May the Blessed bless to us this refreshment."

He seated himself and began to eat slowly, but with relish.

"Heat is a great tonic," he remarked reflectively. "The contents of this bowl and, above all, of this admirable coffee-pot, will erase the remembrance of the discomforts of the night. And then sleep, but not too much of it. Luigi, my friend, we must be off at dawn."

The smuggler's eyebrows rose into arcs.

"How, Reverence?" he exclaimed. "At dawn, and whither, if you please?"