“I believe so.”
The Provincial turned his head slightly, as if about to raise his eyes once more to the young priest's face, but after remaining a moment in the same position with slightly parted lips and the pen poised above the book, he returned to the written notes.
“You left,” he continued, “on Monday week last. On the Wednesday evening you ... carried out the instructions given to you. This morning you arrived at Audierne, and came into the harbour at daybreak. Your part has been satisfactorily performed. You have brought your prisoner with all expedition. So—” here the Provincial raised the pen from the book with a jerk of his wrist and shrugged his shoulders almost imperceptibly, “so—you have been entirely successful?”
Although there was a distinct intention of interrogation in the tone in which this last satisfactory statement was made, the young priest stood motionless and silent. After a pause, the other continued in the same kind, even voice:
“What has not been satisfactory to you, my son?”
“The 'patron' of the boat, Loic Plufer, was killed by the breaking of a rope, before we were out of sight of the English coast.”
“Ah! I am sorry. Had you time—were you enabled to administer to him the Holy Rites?”
“No, my father. He was killed at one blow.”
The Provincial laid aside his pen and leant back. His soft eyes rested steadily on the book in front of him.
“Did the accident have any evil effect upon the crew!” he asked indifferently.