"Herrick," the priest implored, his face ashy with fright, "ask what thou wilt. I will do anything, if thou wilt but keep secret what I have said to thee here, only in jest," and he arose, a look of terror awful to behold upon his face.
"Well, I will keep silent," the pirate answered, seemingly enjoying the fright of his companion, "but only upon one condition, which I will tell thee in a moment. But what said thou awhile ago?—that the Count was half-crazy. Why dost thou say that?"
Francis hesitated; then he answered: "Did I not see him walk the floor in agony only a few days ago, and cry out as if in pain? Would a man in his senses do that, thinkest thou?"
"It may be that he has something upon his mind that thou dost not know of," the sailor replied, his face grim and stolid.
The priest smiled, his wrinkles deepening. "Or perhaps it is more likely this devil of an Englishman that he has upon his hands. A thousand fiends fly away with them both to perdition!" the priest continued, his face flushing with anger. "Betwixt them, I am 'between the devil and the deep blue sea.' The Count swears that he will burn me alive, if I so much as intimate to this fellow what I know about his imprisonment; the Englishman will kill me if I do not tell. Between them I do not know what to do," he finished in a wail of agony.
Herrick still looked at him unmoved. I thought I could even discern, from where I lay, a faint trace of irony about his mouth.
"And thou wouldst have lost thy head," he rejoined, "if we had not come upon thee in the nick of time, one night three months ago."
"What wouldst thou have?" Father Francis cried. "The fool had me fuddled with wine, and offered one a king's ransom. What could I do?"
The seaman shrugged his shoulders. "What matter! It is done. We saved thee—and now what other strange thing hast thou seen the Count do lately? Thou art like a cat, creeping silently about the house, thy paw in the cream of all."