As he entered the lofty room the Viscount, despite his chagrin, could not repress a cry of admiration. A dado of blue and white tiles ran all round to a height of six feet; and, above, the lime-washed walls were as white as the purest snow, save where the word Pax had been painted upon them in shapely letters of blue. Above the fireplace, which was in the middle of the room, rose a canopy of burnished copper, so elongated that it pierced the vaulted roof. This was the chimney. But the great surprise was a rivulet of clear water which rushed down a stone channel the whole length of the room. Centuries before, the monks had diverted a mountain stream from its bed, and ever since, night and day, winter and summer, the cheerful waters had gone on leaping and singing through the great white hall. Near its egress, at the north-west corner of the kitchen, the rivulet ran through a square frame of perforated boards. Like a similar contrivance in the vast and famous abbey of Alcobaça this frame formed a place of storage for a few freshwater fish, so that the refectory tables should not go unfurnished even when the Atlantic storms kept the monks' boat idle.
But the Prior was not in a mood to act as cicerone to sightseers, and he strode on until the sacristy was reached. Carvalho's guards were at their posts, and they had been joined by four monks who had come directly through the chapel. Among them were Sebastian and Antonio.
The sacristy was dustless and spotless; and when the cupboards were opened every inch of embroidery and every ounce of plate were found in their places as described in the inventory. At the sight of the gold and silver and precious stones the Viscount's eyes glittered like glass beads. He would have taken the holy vessels in his fat hands to fondle them had not the Prior sternly repelled him. By way of revenge, as well as to mislead the captain, the Viscount then set himself to depreciate everything. The triptych was not Limoges, and he had his doubts about the rubies. The vestments were falling to pieces. As for the Gran Vasco, who was Gran Vasco, after all? He was a painter whom not one collector in a thousand had ever heard of. Besides, the painting was certainly a copy.
To these remarks the Prior did not pay the smallest heed. When everything had been verified, he kissed with exceeding reverence a reliquary containing the relics of martyrs who had suffered for the Church. Then he replaced this last treasure on its shelf and locked the cupboard. The captain held out his hand for the keys, but the Prior answered:
"After you have signed, Senhor Captain. At noon. Till then your guards are keys enough."
Together with the four monks he quitted the sacristy, leaving the two men to follow. But they lingered. To get out of earshot of the guards the captain drew the Viscount into the chapel, and muttered hurriedly:
"We sign. Then we pack up the stuff and bury it. To-night we send to the Government a report. We tell them how these fellows threatened resistance and tried to win over my soldiers. We tell them how the Abbot is an old miser doting on the gold and silver; that we fear a raid of their sympathizers in force; and that we have thought it wise to bury the treasure. We ask them to send a lock-up van and twenty more men to bring it away. And meanwhile..."
"Yes. Meanwhile..." repeated the Viscount, beaming and chuckling. "Meanwhile... By the way, you see these tiles on the walls?"
Yes, the captain saw them. The walls of the oblong nave were almost entirely clothed with azulejos, or blue-and-white tiles. The multitudinous squares formed large pictures crowded with life-size figures.
"If we could get them down some day from the walls," murmured the Viscount, "I know an Englishman who would pay a thousand pounds for them."