“Yes; we could do that,” Sarto said confidently. “Well, I don’t at all suppose that we are going to be disturbed, but it is a satisfaction to feel that we are not altogether out of the affair.”
As usual, a dozen candles had been lighted in different parts of the church as soon as it was dark. The three Genoese, who had joined the company after the capture of Palermo, looked sulky and downcast at being left behind, and Frank called to them.
“I have no doubt that you are disappointed, gentlemen,” he said; “but you should really take it as a compliment. I asked Captain Rubini to leave me, in addition to my two friends here, the three best men he could pick out from those who had not formed part of the original force, and I have no doubt that he has done so. I may tell you that I consider it possible, I do not say probable, that we may be attacked, and we will first see what steps should be taken in that case. I have not been up to the tower: have any of you?”
None of them had mounted there.
“Then let us investigate,” he said.
The campanile stood at the north-west corner of the church; it had an exterior door, and another opening into the church. Taking a couple of candles, they entered by the latter, and mounted a stone staircase leading to the lower story of the tower; beyond this a wooden staircase led to the rough wooden floor under the bells, and another to the flat terrace above.
“The first thing to do,” Frank said, “is to block up the outside door; at any rate, let us have a look at it.” It was roughly made, but very strong. “The door is well enough, but I doubt whether this lock would not give under heavy blows.”
“We might pile chairs behind it,” Sarto suggested.
“I would rather not do that, if we can help it,” Frank replied. “They may burn the door down, and the less combustibles there are the better; however, if we can find nothing else, we must use them.”
Nothing could be found, and Frank then said, “I think that we can manage with one chair.”