“Yes; I’ve come,” I answered with equal discourtesy. “What do you want, eh?” And I stepped quite close to him and faced him.
Chapter Twenty Five.
Held in Bondage.
Long afterwards, when the bitterness of that moment had ceased to rankle in my heart, the Prior and Casteno related how eagerly they had watched me from that long lancet-shaped window while I boldly advanced to the detective. For their own part, they were sure Naylor meant mischief to me, but as to the means he would employ they were all at sea, and so they were for the time all strain and attention.
Luckily, I, too, was well on my guard, and so I did not show any undignified haste in the negotiations. Indeed, I purposely asked the inspector to explain why he had sent so earnest a message to me, and, finally cornered, he began the serious part of the conversation.
“I suppose you guess,” he said, looking aimlessly first to one side of him and then to the other, “why I’ve brought a posse of men with me and surrounded that queer place I found you in?” And with a wave of the hand he indicated the monastery.
“In truth, I don’t,” I answered promptly, “unless,” and here I paused rather effectively, “unless, Naylor, you have taken leave of your senses.”
The man tried to smile, but it was a sickly effort, foredoomed to failure.