“Signore, it was he who left me. After I had buried his body I had nothing more to do there. I had learned much during that year.”
“What is it you learned, my friend? I should like to know.”
“Signore, his wisdom was not like that of other men and it would be too long to explain to you here on this tower and at this late hour of the day. I learned many things. How to be patient, for instance. … Don’t you think, signore, that your friends or the servants at the inn may become uneasy at your long absence?”
“I tell you I haven’t been much more than two hours in this town and I have spoken to nobody in it till I came upon you, except of course to the people at the inn.”
“They may start looking for you.”
“Why should they trouble their heads? It isn’t late yet. Why should they notice my absence?”
“Why? … Simply because your supper may be ready by this time,” retorted the man impatiently.
“It may be, but I am not hungry yet,” said the young man casually. “Let them search for me all over the town if they like.” Then in a tone of interest, “Do you think they would think of looking for me here?” he asked.
“No. This is the last spot anybody would think of,” muttered the other as if to himself. He raised his voice markedly, “We must part indeed. Good night, signore.”
“Good night.”
The man in the seaman’s jacket stared for a moment, then with a brusque movement cocked his cap with the strange tassel more on the side of his head. “I am not going away from this spot,” he said.
“I thought you were. Why did you wish me good night then?”
“Because we must part.”
“I suppose we must some time or other,” agreed Cosmo in a friendly voice. “I should like to meet you again.”
“We must part at once, this moment, on this tower.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to be left alone,” answered the other after the slightest of pauses.
“Oh, come! Why on earth do you want to be left alone? What is it you could do here?” protested the other with great good humour. Then as if struck by an amusing notion, “Unless indeed you want to practise incantations,” he continued lightly, “and perhaps call the Evil One to your side.” He paused. “There are people, you know, that think it can be done,” he added in a mocking tone.
“They are not far wrong,” was the other’s ominous reply. “Each man has a devil not very far from his elbow. Don’t argue, signore, don’t call him up in me! You had better say no more and go in peace from here.”
The young traveller did not change his careless attitude. The man in the cap heard him say quietly, almost in a tone of self-communion:
“I prefer to stay in peace here.”
It was indeed a wonderful peace. The sound of their quiet voices did not seem to affect it in the least. It had an enormous and overpowering amplitude which seemed rather to the man in the cap to take the part of the Englishman’s calm obstinacy against his growing anger. He couldn’t repress an impulsively threatening movement in the direction of his inconvenient companion but it died out in perplexity. He pushed his cap still more on one side and simply scratched his head.
“You are one of those people that are accustomed to have their own way. Well, you can’t have your way this time. I have asked you quietly to leave me alone on this tower. I asked you as man to man. But if you won’t listen to reason I …”
Cosmo, putting the palms of his hands against the edge of the parapet, sprang lightly nearly to the middle of the platform and landed without a stagger. His voice was perfectly even.
“Reason is my only guide,” he declared. “But your request looks like mere caprice. For what can you possibly have to do here? The sea birds are gone to sleep and I have as much right to the air up here as you. Therefore …”
A thought seemed to strike him. “Surely this can’t be your trysting place,” he commented in a changed tone through which pierced a certain sympathy.
A short scornful laugh from the other checked him and he muttered to himself soberly, “No. Altogether unfit … amongst those grim old guns.” He raised his voice. “All I can do is to give you all the room.” He backed away from the centre of the platform and perched himself this time on the massive breech of a sixty-pounder. “Go on with your incantations,” he said then to the tall and dim figure whose immobility appeared helpless for a moment. It broke the short period of silence, saying deliberately:
“I suppose you are aware that at any time since we have begun to talk together it was open to me to fling myself upon you unawares as you sat on the parapet and knock you over to the bottom of this tower?” He waited a moment, then in a deeper tone, “Will you deny it?” he said.
“No, I won’t deny it,” was the careless answer. “I hadn’t thought to be on my guard. But I can swim.”
“Don’t you know there is a border of big blocks of stone there? It would have been a terrible death. … And now, will the signore do what I ask him and return to his inn which is a much safer place than this platform?”
“Safety is not a great inducement; and I don’t believe for a moment you ever thought of attacking me in a treacherous manner.”
“Well,” the tall shadowy figure crowned by the shape of the strange cap admitted reluctantly. “Well, since you put it in those words, signore, I did not.”
“You see! I believe you are a fine fellow. But as it is I am under no sort of obligation to listen to you.”
“You are crafty,” burst out the other violently. “It’s in the blood. How is one to
