The young man rushed to the doors again, and was thrust back as before. After a series of vain attempts, he staggered, almost exhausted, into the centre of the room.
“You see, sir, I make no ungrounded assertions. It is impossible for you to follow your father,” said Appadocca.
“Why impossible? Confound you as a cut-throat—murderer,” asked young Willmington.
“Because,” answered Appadocca, without noticing the harsh epithets, “because he is implicated in a vow that must be fulfilled.”
“I understand no such vow,” said young Willmington, “and if I had a sword, I should force my way in spite of you.”
“Ha! we shall now understand each other, sir,” said Appadocca, then threw aside his cloak, unbelted his richly-ornamented sword, and laid it on the table. “You can use that, sir,” he said to young Willmington, while he pointed to it, and stepping towards the door—
“Lend me your sword,” he said to one of the men.
The person gave up his sword at once to Appadocca, who went round the room, and carefully bolted every door, one after the other. After that, he said to his men.
“Retire into the high road, and remain there until I call.”
The men retired from the doors, and Appadocca closed with the same care the one by which he had entered.