“We hef been mofink some time, my dear sir. You are on your way to Syria, where de bride and bridegroom are waitink.”
“But this is intolerable, sir! This is kidnapping!”
“It shell be my endeafour to make it fery tolerable to you, my dear sir—an agreeable extension off your holiday, det iss all.”
“But I must go back to my work. I am expected.”
“Now, come,” the Chevalier laid a paternal hand on Mr Judson’s coat-sleeve, “be reassonable, my dear sir. Your luggich iss all brought on board. My achent hess telegrephed to your rector det you are summoned suddenly to Pelestine. Your bill at de hotel iss paid, de proprietor iss told det you are unexpectedly called away. Eferythink iss complete, no mystery, no trouble.”
“Really, I think you are the coolest hand I ever met.”
“You compliment me too much. See, you receife your pessich out and home again, and fife hundret pounts for your douceur—your fee. You gif your rector ten pounts for his fafourite Society—it iss for de confersion off de Chews, iss it not?—and you go beck and tell him more about de Chews den he efer knew before.”
There was a malicious twinkle in the curate’s eye. “Now, how in the world did you guess that we were interested in the Jews at our place?”
“You hef been seen wanderink about de Giudecca, you hef spoken to many Chews in oder parts off Fenice, and asked dem questions about deir faith.”
“That’s true. I have made many inquiries of them, and for a very good reason. You will be interested to know that I am the son of Salathiel Yehudi, the converted Jew, who has spent the greater part of his life at Baghdad, as a missionary to his own people.”