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He acceded to Rene Drucquer's prayer to telegraph for Christian Vellacott. And now Vellacott was actually coming down the cabin stairs. He entered the cabin and stood by the sick man's bed. "Ah, you have come," said the Frenchman, with that peculiar tone of pathetic humour which can only be rendered in the language that he spoke. "But how old! Do I look as old as that, I wonder?
The Jesuit must have known, however, from Rene Drucquer's report, and from his own observations, that Christian Vellacott was of too firm a mould to allow his feelings to be influenced by a petty action of this description, however sincere and conciliatory might have been the spirit in which it was conceived.
Presently Rene Drucquer's quick, painful tones broke the silence again, and he continued his story. "He told me," he said, "that in times gone by we had ruled the Roman Catholic world invisibly from the recesses of kings' cabinets and queens' boudoirs. That now the power has left us, but that the Order is as firm as ever, nearly as rich, and quite as intelligent.
As they passed along the narrow footpath, the dim form of a man rose from behind the log of wood upon which they had been sitting. It was one of the lay brethren who had accompanied them from Audierne. Contrary to Rene Drucquer's whispered instructions, he had followed them after quitting the carriage, and had crept up behind the poplars unheard and unsuspected. He came, however, too late.
The young Englishman bowed his head with characteristic decision. "I will do so," he said gravely. Then he crawled across the deck and touched Rene Drucquer's shoulder. The priest did not look up until the touch had been repeated. "Yes," he murmured; "yes. What do you want?" Christian, guessed at the words, for in the tumult of the gale he could not hear them.
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