They were on the altar when our two friends went to confess, as both of them declared. Perhaps the new sacristan had taken them away to clean after the departure of the congregation.
No; the sacristan was questioned, he knew naught but that they were still on the altar. The affair caused much gossip and surmise, and much time was lost in loud talking and angry gesticulations. The arch-priest at length appeared on the spot, and our two friends Antonio and Peppe communicated to him their suspicions—viz., that the unknown friar, whom both of them recognised to be no other than the brigand chief himself, had purloined the silver candlesticks immediately after confession, and made his escape into the mountains. Search was now made for the thief, but the day was already far spent and the monk had had ample time to reach the convent before his pursuers thought of going in search of him.
On the following day the arch-priest called at the convent in person, acquainted the monks there with his loss, and stated his suspicions. He was informed by them that the band of brigands who had only lately become converted and had entered their order, and who, up to the present time, had shown themselves most exemplary in conduct, to the great surprise of their brother monks, had suddenly decamped in the dead of night, no one knew how. They had evidently resumed their former profession, as they had left their cassocks behind them, and their arms, which had been hung up in the chapel as trophies of their conversion, had been removed.
The affair of the silver candlesticks was unknown to the rest of the order, but shortly afterwards a silversmith in Rome, to whose shop a handsome pair of silver candlesticks was brought for sale, having some scruples at receiving stolen goods, and distrusting much the appearance of the person who brought them, sent secretly to the police, who took in charge the suspected party. Now it happened about that time in the vicinity of Rome, that a certain band of brigands had been guilty of the most fearful outrages. The police were already on their track, and the capture of the suspected vendor of stolen goods subsequently led to the discovery of the whole band, which was soon identified as the same which had once received the Pope's pardon and had entered into holy orders. They were accordingly tried, condemned, and executed on the summit of the fort of St. Angelo, which is built on the ruins of the ancient tomb of Hadrian, on the banks of the Tiber.
By the time our artist had finished his story, and received Helen's warm eulogium on the same, the sitting had already come to an end. Dame Hearty now knocked at the door to ask if her daughter could be spared, as she found that she really could not go through her household duties without her.
"Just one moment," said McGuilp; "there, Helen, just place yourself once more as you were, and I shall have finished with you for the day. Just one more touch."
The artist then began working rapidly for some ten minutes, as if his life were at stake, when suddenly throwing himself back in his chair, as if exhausted after some stupendous effort, he exclaimed: "There now!"
These magical words were the signal for Helen's liberation, and now both mother and daughter placed themselves behind the artist's chair and proceeded to criticise his work.
"Oh my! what a love of a pictur'!" exclaimed Dame Hearty; "and how exactly like our Helen. Oh, if ever! Well I never! I do declare," etc.