"True, Señor?" the little man said. "You do not doubt my word? I see you do not. It was but a natural expression. You are fortunate to be a citizen of England—a citizen of no mean country—but still, as I have heard, now that His Most Catholic Majesty is wedded to your kingdom there are many burnings."
"At any rate," Johnnie answered hotly, "we have no Holy Office."
"Aye, but you will, Señor, you will! if the Queen Maria liveth long enough, for they tell me she is sickly, and not like to make a goodly age. But still, to come from England is most deadly unwise, and I cannot think why a caballero should care to do so."
Johnnie did not answer him for a moment. He knew very well why he had cared, or dared, to do so. He looked at Madame La Motte with a grim little smile.
The woman took him on the instant.
"A chevalier, such as Monsieur here, hath his own reasons for where he goes and what he does," she said. "Take not upon you, Monsieur Perez, to enquire too much...."
Johnnie stopped her with a sudden exclamation.
"But touching the Holy Office, Señor," he said, "what you have told me is all very well. I am a good Catholic, I trust and hope; but surely these circumstances are very occasional. You describe things which have doubtless happened, but not things which happen every day. It is impossible to believe that this is a system."
"Think you so?" said the little man. "Then I will very soon disabuse you of any such idea. I have papers in my mails, papers of my brother's, which—why, who comes here?"
His voice died away into silence, as round the other side of the wooden tower of the forecastle—with which all big merchantmen were provided in those days for defence against the enterprise of pirates—a black shadow, followed by a short, thick-set form, came into their view.