Landon kept a moment's silence. Then he smiled.
"I confess that I have not augmented its morality, in bulk, Signor," he said. "In fact, by adding the two who stand behind you to its population, I have done far otherwise. Instead of being where you find them, they should be under lock and key."
"Why?" demanded the priest, laconically.
"Because they robbed me," answered Landon. "Because, for wicked purposes of their own, they took from me—not gold, but what is beyond the price of gold or buying—my only son."
"You accuse them of—kidnapping?" The good man's voice was coldly incredulous.
Landon made a gesture of assent.
"Of that and of attempted murder. They hired Moorish desperadoes to attack me, to ride me down."
"And you have made of yourself not only prosecutor, but judge, jury, and keeper of their prison?"
"These things happened in Africa, outside civilized jurisdiction. Was I to lack justice when it lay in the hollow of my hand?"
"Are there no consular courts? If not, you cannot bring your private cause to private verdict in the dominions of the King of Italy, however bad his title to the throne."