The gray man stared at him with still unappeased surprise. Then, suddenly, his face cleared. He looked at Claire; he looked on beyond her to Aylmer.
"You have met his terms? You see the hopelessness of it all; you have been wise?"
His voice was smooth, now, and had lost its harsh tones of amazement. He purred his approbation.
Aylmer laughed.
"We have been wise, my dear Miller," he agreed. He laughed again as Padre Sigismondi briskly entered the room. He had the aspect of an ascetic but experienced mariner in his new garb. He bowed to Miller courteously but inquiringly. The inquiry, it was to be noticed, was directed in part towards Aylmer and his companion.
But Aylmer offered no introduction. He drew forward a chair, and placed it in front of the fire.
"A good roasting after your immersion? Let me prescribe that," he said.
The priest looked at him and then gave a cry of commiseration.
"But you yourself, Signor—you remain in your sodden clothes?"
"For a very simple reason, father," said Aylmer, smiling. "I was taken prisoner, but not my luggage. I stand up in my belongings."