CHAPTER IX
FATHER SOLOMON AT BAY
So sudden had been my movement that I had caused the old man to stagger back, nevertheless he did not lose his footing, and when he caught sight of me, I thought I detected a desire on his part to rush through the open doorway. So, before he could take any such action, I closed the door with a loud noise—a noise which resounded through the great lonely building.
I could see that my entrance had astonished him. That he expected some one else was evident, and from the look in his eyes I knew that he had no knowledge nor suspicion as to who I was. He held a small oil lamp on the level of his head, by which means he caused its light to fall directly on my face. I saw, too, that his keen deep-set eyes rested on me as though he would read my thoughts, and I judged that he was at a loss how he should treat me.
"And so you would use your brute strength to enter the house of a lonely man, who desires only that he may seek to do the will of God," he said slowly, and I could have sworn that he was seeking to measure my strength and was calculating whether it would be wise to throw himself upon me.
I do not know why it was, but for answer I only laughed. Perhaps this was because the old man's voice had driven away the last vestige of superstitious fear.
"You are young for your trade, young master," he continued, still keeping his eyes steadily fixed on me, "and if my old eyes do not tell me falsely, you are ill fitted for it. Your face tells me that you should be an honest youth, not a roystering and lying housebreaker and highwayman. So leave me at once. I have naught of which you can rob me. Gold and silver have I none. I am simply a harmless old man who seeks to spend the rest of his days in communion with his thoughts and his Maker."
"Your age hath taught you but little wisdom, if it hath taught you that I am a footpad," I said. "Neither do I seek gold or silver."
"Then what do you seek?" he asked with a snarl.