open."
"I understand perfectly," he rejoined. "But I am at the last ditch. Ishall turn now and fight ruffians of the stamp of Cuthbertson with hisown weapons. He has insulted me grossly in that last letter of his,penned by an assistant secretary, I see, and I will repay him `a toothfor a tooth, an eye for an eye, burning for burning'!" And his handsclenched, and upon his features there glowered a look of diabolicalrage.
I would have said more, but just then a police sergeant answered hissummons, and at his request brought him a fresh sheet of notepaper andan envelope, as well as pad, pen, ink, and blotting paper. Thereon hesat down once again on the side of the bed and wrote as under:
"_Bow Street Police Station, Cell 12,973_.
"_To_ The Rev Father Provincial of the Society of Jesus, Church of theImmaculate Conception, Farm Street, Berkeley Square, W.
"Rev Father,--As one who was for some years as a small boy educated atyour society's Stoneyhurst College, I beg to crave your assistance. Afriend and I have been arrested on a perfectly frivolous and futilecharge for grave purposes of the State, connected with the disappearanceof three manuscripts relating to the sacred lake of Tangikano, in whichI understand your society has a very real and vital interest. Can you,therefore, make it convenient to come and see me on the matter, or atleast send a representative to me who is capable of giving me the bestand most disinterested advice at this juncture? If so, words will failto express my gratitude to you.
"Your distracted servant, Jose Zouche Casteno."
"Please have that sent at once," he said, passing the letter open forthe officer to read.
"Any answer?" replied the man, taking the note and preparing to leave.
"Yes; pray tell the constable to wait," returned Casteno, and thesergeant disappeared, and once more we were alone.
For my own part, I was too disgusted then to wrangle any further withthe Spaniard. In a swift comprehensive fashion I realised that it wastoo late to upbraid, the mischief now was done, and that all I could dowas to stand by and fight as best I could for the welfare of my owncountry independent of any adventurers like Cuthbertson on the one handor of the Jesuits on the other.
After all, I saw, if I became too vocal, Casteno was in no mood to brooklectures from me. He always had a remedy against me--he could ask to beplaced in a separate cell, and then I should be in a worse position thanever. I should know nothing of what he was doing to injure England,nothing at all.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.
THE WORDS OF FATHER GANTON.
The answer to his letter, too, came much sooner than I expected. Idon't believe the note had been despatched half-an-hour before theclatter of several men was heard outside the cell again. The door wasthrust open, and the sergeant announced: "A father from the Jesuits'house in Farm Street."
It was something more than idle curiosity that prompted me to turn asthe Jesuit father entered and to examine his features closely. Afterall, I was bound to admit to myself, although I had read a lot and hadheard a lot about the members of the redoubtable Society of Jesus, I hadnever hitherto to my knowledge seen one in the flesh. Of course, I hada vague idea of what one of their priests would be like--tall and thinand sleek, pallid, austere, mysterious, with eyes that never lookedstraight at you, and a voice so carefully modulated that it never failedto give the precise shade of meaning, so precise, indeed, that it leftnothing to the imagination at all.
Nevertheless, I welcomed the opportunity of examining one of thesecunning ministers of the papacy for myself. With a pardonable touch ofegotism, I preferred my own estimate of strangers to other people's, andI wanted to discover for myself what there was in a Jesuit's education,discipline, and code of ethics that made them such powerful andresourceful soldiers of the Vatican, while at the same time they were,in practically every country on the globe, objects of such intensesuspicion, jealousy, or most active dislike.
"Benedicamus Domino," said the priest, with a grave salutation to usboth as the heavy iron door of the cell closed upon him.
"Deo gratias," responded Casteno, and at once I saw the effect of hisStoneyhurst training in the way in which he pulled himself together andassumed a bearing of reverent submissiveness I had never known himexhibit to any other person.
As for the Jesuit himself, I admit I was completely astounded at hisappearance. As he bent down and fumbled in his pocket for the letterwhich Casteno had sent to the Father Provincial I had a splendidopportunity of examining his features, for then the light from the hightightly-barred window streamed full upon him.
To my surprise I discovered in this man of fifty, with the squareshoulders, the unblinking eye, the clean-shaven mouth that expressedkindness, mirth, as well as iron resolution, none of the littleness Ihad credited him with. His broad forehead and black hair, now rapidlyturning white, showed that he must have studied and studied hard, butnot in any narrow sectarian school; his chin and lower jaw, too, werebroad and massive but never cruel; while his hands were strong but alsofrank and free in movement; and his smile, as he searched his pocketsthrough for the letter he had evidently forgotten, was one of thebrightest and sunniest things we had seen in our prison-house. Finally,with a half foreign gesture of apology, he gave up his quest.
"I am so sorry," he said at length, "but I quite forgot to bring with meyour letter which the Father Provincial handed to me. As a matter offact, I must introduce myself too. I am Father Ganton, one of thepriests attached to the Farm Street Church of the ImmaculateConception."
We both of us bowed gravely. And he went on: "Of course, we read yourletter with great grief that any Stoneyhurst lad should get into atrouble such as this, but, really, we were astounded that any one of ourpupils could make so ludicrous a blunder as you seem to have done aboutus. You, my son," turning to Casteno, "must have mixed with many andstrange folks since you were under the care of our priests in Lancashireto get the odd and crazy notion into your head that we are conspiratorsand politicians, and all that silly nonsense some papers delight toprint about us. I can assure you both that all that stupid idea that wemix ourselves up in government, or schemes of government, is fudge--merefudge. We are simply a strong militant Order for the Church of Rome,and, broadly speaking, we don't care who is in power so long as we arefree to practise our religion, and religious interests don't suffer."
"Now about those manuscripts I wrote about--the manuscripts that aresupposed to relate to the sacred lake of Tangikano," questioned Casteno."What about those?"
"You can't deny you have made most strenuous efforts," cried I intriumph, "to get hold of those!"
"I don't know," said the Jesuit readily. "It all depends, too, what youcall `strenuous' efforts. I will tell you quite frankly all we knowabout them. Centuries ago I understand our Order in Mexico did try toget hold of this sacred lake, but the treasure in it was not theultimate object. We had had such grievous representations made to us byCatholic missionaries in the district of the evil effect of that heathenpractice of casting treasure into that sacred water, with thatceremonial of a pagan pontiff, that we primarily desired to drain thelake right away and only leave in its place barren land. As a matter offact, few of us nowadays ever gave a thought to the custom, until theother day a well-known dealer in manuscripts came to our house in FarmStreet and told us that three most valuable documents affecting thehistory of our Order in Mexico were about to come under the hammer inLondon. He asked us to bid for them, knowing that many of our fatherswere historians of no mean eminence and that the archives of our societywere richly endowed with precious manuscripts that went right back intothe twilight of civilised history. Then he gave a hint that they weresupposed to relate to the lake, and so after some haggling anddiscussion we authorised him to bid up to sixty pounds--"
"Sixty pounds," echoed Casteno. "Oh, never!"
"Yes; that was as much as we could afford, and as much as we desired togive," returned Father Ganton. "Doubtless, the man made a great fussabout the commission to frighten other people off and to ad
vertise hisown importance; but that, as he will tell you, was our limit. Onething, however, I ought to put right at once, and I hope if either ofyou gentlemen gets the chance you will do this for the Society of Jesusin England. Had we had any ghost of a suspicion at the time that thatdealer came to us that those manuscripts had any diplomatic importancewhatever we should not have arranged to offer one penny for them. Ourwork, as our founder, St Ignatius, lays down in the first of hisspiritual exercises, is the salvation of souls, not the `sick hurry, thedivided arms, the hearts o'ertaxed, the palsied arms,' as Matthew Arnoldpoints out, of the man of the world, eager only about fortune. We don'twant, we would not have, any distractions from this object; and I begyou to believe that, and so in your small way help to put public
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