But Ambrose answered nothing.
“A seër, a prophet!” quoth I. “A just man and a merciful! How many thousands of poor mariners, pray, hath this righteous preacher slain?”
Ambrose smote his forehead. “Have a care!” said he, “What did I tell you? If the Doctor heard you——”
“Oh, but you tempt me!” cried I, “You tempt me! What! Would you have me to believe that this pirate chief, this murderer——”
I broke off; for the door of the cell was thrown violently open, and there entered, bursting in upon us, the little lad whom we had seen near the volcan.
“Tirralirra!” cried he in his shrill voice, and stood stock and silent before us. I looked at Ambrose, who stared on the lad.
“Well, Dominic?” said he in a quavering voice.
The lad fell to capering about the cell. His eyes glowed like lamps; and, on a sudden, he cried:
“The mighty from their seats! The mighty from their seats! Death is a pendulum! Death is a swing! Up—down! See—saw! It pulls down the mighty from their seats, and exalteth the humble and meek! The clown is up and the king down, hey-diddle-diddle for king and clown!”
And, stepping to Ambrose, he put a slip of paper in his hands.