“Holy Father,” he began, “the building is in the possession of armed men—” and then, catching sight for the first time of George and the two soldiers, who were standing somewhat in the shadow, he stopped short, at the same time making the sign of the Cross.
“Yes, proceed, Fray Matthew,” exhorted the other. “You were saying that the building is in the possession of armed men. What else?”
“They have taken the gaoler, your Eminence, locked him in one of his own cells, and are now liberating the prisoners including one whom they have taken out of the very torture chamber itself.”
“Is this true, señor?” demanded the Father Superior. “And, if so, is this sacrilege being committed by your orders?”
“I know not whether that man’s story is true or not,” said George, “but I think it exceedingly probable; and, if so, it is certainly being done by my orders. As to the sacrilege of the thing—” the young man shrugged his shoulders expressively.
The Holy Father also shrugged his shoulders, as though to say—“Well, if you are struck dead, don’t blame me; it will only be what you richly deserve.” Then he turned to Fray Matthew.
“Fray,” he said, “bring me hither the book containing the record of persons admitted to the Inquisition during the past year, with particulars of the manner in which they have been dealt with.”
The priest, with another frightened glance at George and the two stolid-looking soldiers, hurriedly retired; and as he vanished through the doorway the Father Superior coolly turned his back upon the Englishman and, sauntering to the nearest window, stood gazing contemplatively through it into the garden, which, George observed, was all ablaze with tropical flora. And there he remained, taking not the slightest notice of his self-invited visitors until, after an absence of some ten minutes, the Fray returned, bearing two enormous books under his arm, the which he laid upon the table. Then, sauntering back to the table as leisurely as he had left it, the Holy Father took up the list which George had handed to him, considered it for a moment, opened one of the two books which had been brought to him, referred to an index, and then turned over the pages of the book until he found the one which he wanted. Then he ran his finger down a column, paused, and looked up.
“Here,” he said, looking up and addressing George, “is the entry referring to the first man on your list. It states that, after having been put to the question in various ways, he died, on—such a date, in his cell.”
“Thank you,” said George. “Now, before we go any farther, I must ask you to kindly explain exactly what you mean when you speak of a man being ‘put to the question.’”