"Hurry! Hurry!" was the breathless response of Wrenmarsh. "It's the custodi and the police—those cursed carabinieri! I told you the carter'd sell me out."
It was only a minute before the men had reached the boat, and hurriedly stowed the boxes they carried. Taberman and Wrenmarsh scrambled in, and Jerry, sitting in a distorted and cramped position behind the big box, got hold of the lines. The men pushed off, and got into their places anyhow. Just as Tab opened his lips to order the men to give way, a peremptory voice came to them from the shore to the south. The light had not advanced from where they had seen it stop, but it had gone waving wildly up and down the beach as if the bearers had encountered some impassable obstacle and sought in vain for a place which would allow a passage.
"Aspetta!" bawled the voice. "Aspetta nel nomme del Re!"
"What's that?" asked Jerry.
"They're calling us to stand—in the king's name," Mr. Wrenmarsh returned with sullen nervousness.
"Head the boat 'round," cried Tab. "Why the devil don't they come down if they want us?"
"I can't imagine," the collector answered.
"Perhaps they're afraid of us; but I don't think that can be it."