“Let this old water rat squeak. I'd like, myself, to hear his story.”
Jimmy, mystified by this turn of conversation, turned to Tomaso and nodded. The old gondolier sat down on the foot of the bed and grinned mirthlessly at the prostrate Pietro.
“Why, to-day, signor—or yesterday now—I saw this scalawag talking to that big lump over there on the floor, and I knew there must be something wrong afoot, from the confidential way in which they talked and because the lump is no good. It bothered somewhat, and so when to-night I saw this Pietro take you off in a gondola that's not a public one, but a private one owned by this lump's pal, I made up my mind there was something wrong, and I followed you. I got into that passageway too late to help, but I saw that something like a lively play was going on, Pietro here pretending to be struggling and fighting, and you down. Him fighting? All he was doing was to boss the job and fool you so that if you got away there could be no evidence against him! Then when they carried you into this building they left the lower door open. So I slipped inside, took off my shoes and watched and listened. Pietro paid off all but one man, this lout with earrings, and they shoved off. If they hadn't been in such a hurry to reach the nearest grog shop they'd have seen me; because I had barely time to slip into one of the empty rooms a few feet ahead of them.
“Then Pietro waits in the hall with his ear to a crack of the door until the decorated brigand here and his pal come out and lock the door. They all go downstairs, where Pietro pays off the stevedore who carried you in, and he too shoves off. Then Pietro gives his instructions to old Earrings to make sure that you don't get away for at least four days, but—I'll say this for him!—he made it plain that you weren't to be hurt in any way that could be helped unless you cut up ugly, and that you were to be well fed and watered. He gives Earrings a key and tells him that he needn't come down to lock the outer door because he's got another key for himself. When I heard that I ran down and out. I waited quite a while and then comes Master Pietro down the street and I took him in before he knew what happened; fixed him up with the spare mooring line of my gondola; got the key out of his pocket; brought him back; dumped him in the hallway and slipped up on Earrings. I waited quite a while and thought Earrings ought to be asleep. But when I struck a match to find him, he jumped up and we had a very nice little party. A very nice party, signor, and, if I do not boast, I'll say that for a man of my years there's quite a lot of good stuff left in me yet. However, that's all I know about it—and there they are. Nice pair of 'em!”
For a long time Jimmy looked at Pietro, who eyed him back with a scowl as black as the night outside. Jimmy could not in the least conjecture the whys and wherefores of this conspiracy and suddenly felt sorry that Pietro, who had so often amused him, should prove so black a traitor to friendship.
“Pietro, my lad,” he said in English, “I can't understand this at all. I thought you were my friend. You are the last one in the world I would have classed as a Judas Iscariot!”
“You're a nice one to call any one a Judas. I should say so!” Pietro cried, breaking his long, stubborn silence with such indignant and vehement anger that his face whitened. He tried to sit up, struggling like a trussed fowl, and then limply chucked himself back on the pillow with an air of helpless exasperation.
“Go ahead and talk,” Jimmy said.
“How can I talk—freely, and express myself when—lying here like this, with my hands tied?” Pietro demanded.
Jimmy suddenly burst into a roar of laughter at the absurdity of Pietro's speech, but the latter appeared to discern nothing funny in his remark and scowled all the more.
“All right. We'll loosen your hands so you can express yourself,” said Jimmy, and then in Italian told Tomaso to go over and close the door and stand guard by it.
“My lad,” said Jimmy as he proceeded to unbind the rope lashings, “you're laboring under some sort of delusion. If you think I ever played the part of a Judas in anything, I'd like to have you tell me what it is. We'll have to get that straightened out first. So, with a little patience, I don't doubt but what we'll come to a better understanding. There you are! Free! Now you'd probably feel more comfortable if you got up and sat in a chair. It's no fun being tied up like a boneless ham. I've been through it myself this evening—by your orders. So you've
