"Are the Legitimists, your Reverence: at least they have confessed to have warred with Mexico, and invaded California—the brigands."
The priest remained lost for a moment in blank and bitter amazement. Banks took advantage of the pause to edge his way to the front.
"Ask him, some of you," he said, turning to Brace and Crosby, "when this d——d farce will be over, and where we can find the head man—the boss idiot of this foolery."
"Let him put it milder," whispered Winslow. "You got us into trouble enough with your tongue already."
Crosby hesitated a moment.
"Quand finira ce drole representation?—et—et—qui est ce qui est l'entrepreneur?" he said dubiously.
The priest stared. These Americans were surely cooler and less excitable than his strange guest. A thought struck him.
"How many are still in the ship?" he asked gently.
"Nobody but Perkins and that piratical crew of niggers."
"And that infernal Hurlstone," added Winslow.