"Ask those men," Shaw answered, roughly, as he angrily struck the butt of his rifle against the ground.
"Is it true?" the priest inquired.
"It is," the gambusino answered.
Father Seraphin frowned, and his pale forehead was covered with febrile ruddiness.
"Sir," he said, in a voice choking with indignation. "I summon you, in the name of that God whom you serve, and whose minister you lay claim to being, to restore at once to liberty the hapless girl whom you have so unworthily imprisoned, in defiance of all laws, human and divine. I engage to deliver her into the hands of those who bewail her loss."
Fray Ambrosio bowed; he let his eyes fall, and said in a hypocritical voice—
"Father, you are mistaken as regards myself. I had nothing to do with the carrying off of that poor child, which on the contrary, I opposed to the utmost of my power; and that is so true, father," he added, "that at the moment when this young madman arrived, the worthy gambusino and myself had resolved, at all risks, on restoring Doña Clara to her family."
"I should wish to believe you, sir; if I am mistaken, as you say, you will forgive me, for appearances were against you; it only depends on yourself to produce a perfect justification by carrying out my wishes."
"You shall be satisfied, father," the monk replied. At a signal from him Garote left the room. During the few words interchanged between the two men, Shaw remained motionless, hesitating, not knowing what he ought to do; but he suddenly made up his mind, threw his rifle over his shoulder, and turned to the missionary.
"Father," he said respectfully, "my presence is now needless here. Farewell; my departure will prove to you the purity of my intentions."