But to Claire and, to a less extent to Aylmer, there was a queer, indefinite sense of something which impended--something which racked them with suspicion in the attitude of those about them. Landon's surrender was too facile; Luigi's deference too pliant; Muhammed's apathetic eyes were never less convincing of guilelessness. When they reached the cottage, and stood with Padre Sigismondi before the blaze in the great open hearth and watched the quick preparations which were being made to improvise a meal, the unreality of their surroundings seemed to grow in significance. No one interfered with them; no one even noticed them. Luigi set the table; Muhammed busied himself with the coffee-pot; Landon held the father's dripping garments to the blaze while their owner assumed a sailor's trousers and jersey in an adjoining room. It was too incredible, this sudden turning of tables. They looked at each other doubtfully. Their speculations received a sudden interruption. The door opened to admit Miller. He was half dressed. He blinked--it was apparent that he and sleep had parted company a short half minute before. "I heard noises," he said, and then his glance fell upon the two who stood near the fireplace, side by side. His usual phlegm seemed to desert him. He gave an exclamation. "You!" he cried. "You!" He wheeled towards Landon. "Will you explain?" he cried harshly. "What is happening?" "I entertain guests--a small, but select, family party," grinned Landon. The gray man stared at him with still unappeased surprise. Then, suddenly, his face cleared. He looked at Claire; he looked on beyond her to Aylmer. "You have met his terms? You see the hopelessness of it all; you have been wise?" His voice was smooth, now, and had lost its harsh tones of amazement. He purred his approbation. Aylmer laughed. "We have been wise, my dear Miller," he agreed. He laughed again as Padre Sigismondi briskly entered the room. He had the aspect of an ascetic but experienced mariner in his new garb. He bowed to Miller courteously but inquiringly. The inquiry, it was to be noticed, was directed in part towards Aylmer and his companion. But Aylmer offered no introduction. He drew forward a chair, and placed it in front of the fire. "A good roasting after your immersion? Let me prescribe that," he said. The priest looked at him and then gave a cry of commiseration. "But you yourself, Signor--you remain in your sodden clothes?" "For a very simple reason, father," said Aylmer, smiling. "I was taken prisoner, but not my luggage. I stand up in my belongings." The house began to resound with the recriminations which the priest addressed to Luigi. Why had he not provided the cavalier with a suitable change of raiment while his own clothes dried? Why had he not done this; why had he not done that?