“I never intended to deceive you. I was compelled to assume
these--er--priestly habiliments in order that I might be able to
conceal my identity from our mutual enemies. The plan succeeded well
enough with these unobservant creatures, though I never flattered
myself that I had misled an intellectual and social equal.” He was
playing with his false beard while he spoke. “I had more than one
narrow escape myself, which I will tell you of later--these wretched
men are so suspicious.” He came a little closer, his glance falling
upon MacCaskill in the distance. “You think your servant is to be
trusted?”
I knew that he was playing with me, yet I could not retaliate upon this
calm, cynical gentleman. He managed to exert a marvellous power over
me. I answered him as meekly as possible.
“He is my friend, and I know I can trust him.”
Redpath looked surprised, and a little concerned.
“My dear fellow,” he said, in a deeper voice, “are you quite prudent?
Pardon me. I do not question the sincerity of your motives, but do you
think you are wise? The man is palpably not of our station in life. He
looks simple and good-hearted, but it really never pays to take a man
of so humble an origin into full confidence. I feel sure you have acted
for the best, but, as your partner in this enterprise, I feel called
upon to offer a word of advice, if not warning. You must remember I
am older than you, and I have been deceived so often.” He sighed, and
shook his head mournfully. “It is pitiful to think how often I have
been deceived. Even your own father, Petrie--better man never breathed,
and yet he wronged me bitterly, dear fellow! How often I have sighed
the reproachful utterance of the old poet, ‘It was even thou, my
companion!’”
He turned from me, and fixed his false eyes upon the flickering lights
and colours of the water.
All that I could say was:
“Are you going to keep up your disguise all the trip?”
“I have no choice,” came the answer. “Only you and your--I should say
our--servant, with this young lady, will know that I am not Father
Lacombe, of the upland mission. My dear fellow, I am exercising all my
ingenuity to conceal my identity from Olaffson and Leblanc, the latter
a loose-tongued scoundrel who knows far more than he ought, and who
goes about the ship dropping hints among his miserable associates. Any
one of them would murder either of us cheerfully if they were to gain
by doing so.”