He made a little gesture of protest. "You have suffered at his hands--is that it? But your sentence is too sweeping a one, is it not? Surely, Signora, surely?" She shook her head. "No!" she said determinedly. "Traitor, forger, thief--we know him to be all these. And last, but not least, murderer. A murderer of souls. I do not know if he has taken a fellow creature's life, but for five years he racked into the numbness of despair the soul of my sister, who was his wife." He made a tiny exclamation of sympathy; he held up his hand as if he put away from him a spectre of evil. He looked back to Landon. "You have heard, Signor?" he said. "I have heard," said Landon, easily. "As a tale it has no originality and therefore little interest for me. I have heard it a hundred times. Your reverence found fault, a moment back, with my self-assumed status of judge. Are you going to borrow the cloak which you do not permit me to wear? You have heard both sides. To what proof can you refer a decision?" The long, lean figure drew itself up very rigidly. "I am a sinful man myself, Signor. I make no decisions. But I have been appealed to, as I understand, by those whom I find in your power. I shall not permit your restraint of them to continue. You can refer any grievance you have against them to properly constituted tribunals over there." He lifted his arm and pointed south to where storm and night hid Sicily. He turned to Luigi. "Emmanuele and I are, as you see, sodden to the skin. It may reach your great intelligence, by degrees, that we need warmth and refreshment." The smuggler made an apologetic gesture. "But certainly, Reverenza. There is in the house a fire. My poor provisions are at your service." The priest looked towards Claire with another courtly doffing of his hat. "And you, Signora, and you, Signor, will add to my felicity by sharing both with me?" She looked at him gravely. "They have not starved us; we had food a couple of hours ago," she said. "But your company, here and to the mainland, is a boon straight from the hand of God." He inclined his head in assent. "I am His servant, Signora," he said. "I thank Him for permitting me to serve Him, in serving you. Shall we make our way to the house? The hour must be close on midnight." He made a motion towards the path. He looked imperturbably at Landon, who, with Muhammed, still stood astride it. "You appear to be blocking the lady's way, Signor," he said. "Not intentionally, I dare to hope." Landon shrugged his shoulders and drew aside. "On the contrary, your reverence. Not for worlds would I stand between you and refreshment--and sleep." He looked at Muhammed with a half-sardonic, half-inquiring gaze as he spoke. And there was a faintly emphasized inflection on the last two words. The Moor looked back at him impassively, and then drew aside with an obsequious droop of the head.