"Sir," the Parmesan again coolingly corrected, "Nicola has still with him some of his men and the Rosellis. There is but one man who, without suspicion, can reach past these to the little Cornees.—Alieni o' n'infama," he pleasantly repeated, "would you do this to remain awake?"
The prisoner felt himself quiver as though he had been struck. He could not control the hope which was almost a sickness that rose in him at these words. He heard the popular cry surge up against him, hissing and protesting; Firenzi and Pachotto were the most horribly excited for he and they were the only persons in the room not having a good time. His quick glances, furtive and secret, ran questing among the lips that condemned him; when he lifted them to his questioner the sharp intake of his breath promised his soul away. But Mr. Gumama turned upon the Parmesan and told him that he forgot himself.
"Ah, sir, in private a word. Alieni, does he speak English?" He broke his beautiful Italian into a strange sound. "Spik Inglese, Alieni?"
The prisoner, trembling to oblige, responded in the same dialect, "Unstan' Inglese!"
It did not oblige—the Parmesan frowned. "Unstan' Inglese verra goood?" He coaxed, winningly, hoping for a denial.
Now the prisoner, though he understood English perfectly, was no fool and could see a possible weapon when it was put into his hand. "I deplore!" said he, shrugging sadly. "Heartseek! Unstan' notta mooch!" And he tried not to vibrate with greed of what they should say.
"Va bene! Spik Inglese, us! Spik low! Oh, Gumama, let heem put da girl to slip—heem! Let heem tak' for token—Whatta she wear?" he asked Beppo.
Beppo considered and then pointed to the gold bracelet under the old Sicilian cuff. "But silvere!" He lapsed into Italian. The girl had had three silver trinkets—a ring, a locket, a bracelet. Nicola had taken the locket, the ring she had lost. "It ees time she loosa da t'ird!" grinned the Parmesan. "Ssh! He ees leesten!" Their voices sank to a whisper. Inordinately acute though his senses always were the prisoner could no longer understand a syllable.
"I go weeth Beppo an' Chigi. Let heem settle da girl an' tak' her token. Den we settle heem an' tak' botta tokens! Tak' dem to capo in testa for show extrra gooda faith in nama da Arma of Zhoostees. Den Honorrahble Soceeata embrass us! We done gooda!" He inhaled with languid elegance and returned to the world a ring of cigarette smoke.
Still the prisoner could not catch a word. The decision hung fire. The protesting roar surged louder and louder and the cries of Pachotto and Firenzi became tiger cries. Mr. Gumama suddenly called to order. He had found a way to satisfy the Parmesan and yet to maintain his supremacy.