He nodded. Then, removing his pipe, exclaimed—
“Yes. I understand. But did I not warn you?”
“You did. But, to be frank, Mr. Shuttleworth, I really did not follow you then. Neither do I now.”
“Have I not told you, my dear sir, that I possess certain knowledge under vow of absolute secrecy—knowledge which it is not permitted to me, as a servant of God, to divulge.”
“But surely if you knew that assassination was contemplated, it was your duty to warn me.”
“I did—but you took no heed,” he declared. “Sylvia warned you also, when you met in Gardone, and yet you refused to take her advice and go into hiding!”
“But why should an innocent, law-abiding, inoffensive man be compelled to hide himself like a fugitive from justice?” I protested.
“Who can fathom human enmity, or the ingenious cunning of the evil-doer?” asked the grey-faced rector quite calmly. “Have you never stopped to wonder at the marvellous subtlety of human wickedness?”
“Those men are veritable fiends,” I cried. “Yet why have I aroused their animosity? If you know so much concerning them, Mr. Shuttleworth, don’t you think that it is your duty to protect your fellow-creatures?—to make it your business to inform the police?” I added.
“Probably it is,” he said reflectively. “But there are times when even the performance of one’s duty may be injudicious.”