It was more a slur than a question and he answered it in a hopeless mumble. "I did it for the good of the Arm and to make our peace with the Honorable Society. I say it, who am about to die—I thought to resign the traitor, to give him into its hand who sullies ours, to be done with him and at peace."
"Luigi Pachotto, you took too much upon yourself! It is for the Arm to make its own terms. I think it was your private peace you wished to make, thus to save your own throat. But you have cut it." Mr. Gumama paused and sententiously expanded his beautiful brows. "Nevertheless, it may be that you are to be shown strange mercy!"
The murmur rose again, humming with amazement.
"The Society can be merciful for its own just ends. There is a service to be rendered, a deed to be done, beyond the skill of any garzione di mala vita, its apprentice, or yet of its novice, the picciotto di sgarro, the young one. It should be done by one who is past life. Therefore, the Society, yet a little while, suspends your execution." Pachotto was thrust into the background and Mr. Gumama, who all this time had been seated at the table, rose and leaned forward, indicating that the meeting had reached its climax.
"Dear friends, you observed well what Pachotto said? For this have we come together. We of the Fifth paranza, Hands of the Arm, we, in particular, must take heed to ourselves." He paused, collecting attention. But it was already in his pocket. "He who used the Arm of Justice to shelter a traitor, is its long-time chief, Nicola Pascoe—called in the country from which he carried his bowed head, Nicola Ansello! Ah, you know the name! Then you know well that the serpent whom he nourished in our bosom is the traitor at whose word, ten years ago in Italy, four members perished!"
A shudder shook the assembly. Many crossed themselves. Mr. Gumama, in the relish of his own rhetoric, grew increasingly impressive. He was, moreover, extremely pale. "The Society passes sentence—that Arm still enfolds the traitor!"
The assembly cried out as against a sacrilege and its cry was menacing. The Hands of the Arm were now easily distinguishable by their very long faces.
"Ah, my friends," wailed Mr. Gumama with a sudden shrillness, "the Society falters not, but strikes—Fifth paranza, Hands of the Arm, it condemns us, every one!"
A horrible yelling broke loose like a storm. Sobs and hysterical curses strangled together amidst the revilements of the now inimical district. One man was seized with convulsions and had to have wine and water dashed over him, another fainted and got stepped on. Mr. Gumama remained superior and at last made himself heard. "But was it not from the Society I learned lenience to Pachotto? Does it not, in wisdom, leave me in place to address you? On one condition the Society withdraws its condemnation."
The very melody of howling rose. "The condition! Tell! Tell!"