A certain annoyance was depicted on the stranger's features.
"You are right, father," he answered; "appearances are against me. Unfortunately, the explanation you demand from me justly would make us lose too much precious time, hence I cannot give them to you at this moment. All I can do is to swear, in the face of Heaven, on that crucifix you wear round your neck, and which is the symbol of our redemption, that I only wish well to the man you have housed, and that I am this moment seeking to punish a great criminal."
The stranger uttered these words with such frankness, and such an air of conviction, his face glistened with so much honesty, that the missionary felt convinced: he took up the crucifix and offered it to this extraordinary man.
"Swear," he said.
"I swear it," he replied in a firm voice.
"Good," the priest went on, "now you can enter, sir; you are one of ourselves; I will not even insult you by asking your name."
"My name would teach you nothing, father," the stranger said sadly.
"Follow me, sir."
The missionary locked the gate and led the stranger to his room, on entering which the newcomer took off his hat reverently, took up a post in a corner of the room, and did not stir.
"Do not trouble yourself about me, father," he said in a whisper, "and put implicit faith in the oath I took."