"And what happened next?"
"I don't know, Father. Some say the Marquis almost made people believe he was dumbfounded when the new soldiers from Lisbon dug in the hole. But that can't be right; because he left the hole open. I only know that people said he had never put the things in the hole at all, and he had to leave Portugal, and the captain was turned out of the army. That's all."
Antonio took two more turns up and down the room before he demanded:
"Where are the things now?"
José's face clouded; and his eyes, which had burned brightly with excitement during his recital, were suddenly dulled by trouble. A few moments later he became visibly ashamed of his suspiciousness, and he would have begun stammering a speech if Antonio, who could read the whole of his simple mind, had not said:
"Wait. I understand. You believe our Lord sent you to snatch back His own from wicked men. For nearly four years you have guarded the treasure like a faithful watch-dog, and now you hesitate to trust me. It is natural."
José stared in wonder at this mysterious monk, who knew his thoughts even better than he knew them himself.
"But listen," Antonio went on. "For nearly four years I too have guarded a secret. The night when you dug up the boxes, José, that same night was the last night the world saw me as a monk. Like you, I lay all that night under the trees. Since then the world has known me as a clerk, a wine-grower, a commercial traveler, a farmer. But to-night, as soon as you asked me for my secret, I gave it. You are the only man in the world who knows that the owner of this little farm is the monk Antonio. Still, although I've told you my secret, that does not force you to tell me yours."
José stirred uneasily.
"This is what I propose," concluded Antonio. "I will swear to you, here and now, a solemn oath that if you tell me your secret I will never reveal it until the monks return. And you, on your part, shall swear that you will not breathe a hint of my own secret to a living soul."