"Prisoners!" The voice was incredulous, wrathful, and above all full of command. "Prisoners! You speak of—whom?"
The hand upon Claire's shoulder dropped. Her captor fell away as if struck by a physical blow.
"Padre Sigi!" he stammered, and his voice was convincing of his amazement. "Padre Sigi!"
The other nodded imperiously.
"Padre Sigismondi," he agreed. "At your service, my good Luigi. At your service!"
CHAPTER XXIV
LUIGI'S HOSPITALITY
The smuggler's eyes expressed the limits of amazement. He stared at the newcomer. He turned his glance to Aylmer, as if he sought information there. He brought it back and focussed it upon the dripping soutane. He made inarticulate noises of incredulity; he flung up his hands with gestures of bewilderment.
"You arrive—how, reverend father?" he cried. "What have you used? The wings of a bird, the fins of a fish?"