Part 50 (2/2)

”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 s.h.i.+rt 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?”

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