Manisty winced, but for a while said nothing. All at once he jerked away his cigarette.
'Do you suspect some other reason for it, than the force of evidence?'—he said, in another manner.
The priest, smiling, looked him full in the face without replying.
'You may,' said Manisty, coolly. 'I shan't play the hypocrite. Father, I told you that I had been wandering about Italy on a quest that was not health, nor piety, nor archæology. How much did you guess?'
'Naturally, something—lieber Herr.'
'Do you know that I should have been at Torre Amiata weeks ago but for you?'
'For me! You talk in riddles.'
'Very simple. Your letters might have contained a piece of news—and did not. Yet if it had been there to give, you would have given it. So I crossed Torre Amiata off my list. No need to go there! I said to myself.'
The priest was silent.
Manisty looked up. His eyes sparkled; his lips trembled as though they could hardly bring themselves to launch the words behind them.