"It is not possible," answered the latter scornfully; "this is no century in which such things can be done. Has civilisation not reached as far as Aragon? Who talks of the rack and the inquisition at this time of day?"
The young Scot halted a sturdy peasant who came whistling down the path, a bundle of tough reed stems over his shoulder.
"Did you ever hear of the black room of the monastery of Montblanch?" he said, pinching the man's blue overall between finger and thumb.
The sunburnt Aragonese crossed himself and was silent.
"Speak, have you heard?"
The other nodded, and made with his digits that "fig of Spain" which averts the evil eye; but under his loose blouse half furtively as if ashamed of his precaution.
"I have heard!" he said, and was silent.
"Do you wish to enter it?" said Rollo.
"God forbid!" quoth the man with conviction.
"And why?" pursued the Scot, wishful to make his point.