“Their father Satan gives them wisdom. Take care, captain, that you are not carried away by their doctrines. The true faith will triumph, depend on that,” said the priest, frowning as he spoke.
“Your arguments are conclusive. It will not be my fault if the plan miscarries,” answered Villegagnon. “I will keep on the mask till I feel myself strong enough to throw it off.”
“You will do well. Do not be in a hurry. We must get as many of these pestiferous sectarians into the net as possible.”
Further conversation of the same character was held between the two worthies for some time. Nigel had found himself most unintentionally acting the part of an eavesdropper. He had at first felt inclined to start up and make the captain and priest aware of his presence; but as the conversation went on he felt that he was justified in thus learning the character of the leader of the expedition, whose evil intentions he hoped he might be the means of counteracting. He determined, therefore, to appear to be fast asleep should they, on quitting the room, discover him.
As he saw them rise, he closed his eyes. He heard their footsteps as they approached the door. Just then the light which Villegagnon carried fell upon him.
“I had no idea that anyone was in the room,” whispered the captain, holding the lamp towards Nigel.
“Who is he?” asked the priest, in a low voice.
“A young pig of a Scotchman, whom the admiral insisted on my taking on board as an officer.”
“Should he have overheard what was said, he might interfere with our proceedings,” observed the priest. “Your dagger would most speedily settle the question, and prevent mischief.”
