The agitation of Reggio had increased as Gunn was speaking, until now it became absolutely painful to behold. He was trembling violently, and with shaking hand he entreated the old man to be silent.
“You know not, signor—you know not!” he whispered. “Beware what you say! If you continue to talk, I must decline to carry you in my gondola—you and the boys. We must part. I am a poor man. I need the money you pay me for my services. But most I need my life, not for myself alone, but for Teresa, my sister.”
“Man,” said Zenas, “you must be crazy! What harm could speaking of——”
“I pray you no more, signor—no more!”
“Well, wouldn’t that beat you!” said Buckhart, who understood a little Italian, and had succeeded in getting the drift of the talk. “What do you think of it, pard?”
“I do not know what to think,” confessed Dick, quite as much surprised and bewildered as Professor Gunn. “It is most remarkable. The man seems frightened. He actually pretends that we may place his life in peril by our words.”
“It may be some kind of a trick, Dick.”
“What kind of a trick can it be?”
“I don’t know, but I’m sure watching out constant for tricks by these dagoes. They’re a slippery set, and they seem to think travelers are fair and legitimate game for plucking.”
“Not all of them, Brad.”