I was silent for a time, reflecting on the story I had just heard. If it had stood alone--had been the sole remarkable thing related of the picture--it would not have been entitled to consideration; but so many strange things had occurred in connexion with Angelo's masterpiece that I hesitated before pronouncing Fruin's narration to be a fable, destitute of any foundation whatever. Though at present the affair seemed coloured by the supernatural, it might have a groundwork of fact to rest upon.
"Well, Sir Hugh," remarked my uncle, "we must certainly view this mysterious picture in the morning."
"Why not now?" I said, jumping to my feet. "Let us see it to-night. I shall not be able to sleep if I go to bed without seeing it."
But the Baronet shrugged his shoulders with a good-humoured smile.
"No, thank you. We are warm and comfortable here. A walk in a cold picture-gallery by the pale light of the moon is an affront to these cigars and this port. Let us defer our visit till the morning."
I was loth to wait till then. The picture had eluded us so long that I thought it quite within the range of probability for it to walk off during the night.
"Did Angelo ever speak to you of his stay at Rivoli?" said I to the Baronet.
"Never knew he had been there till you mentioned it."
"He's a native of the place. He never told you, then, of a little incident that happened in the cathedral of Rivoli?"
"You are talking Greek to me--at least, that is," coughed the Baronet, reserving to himself the credit of a classical reputation, "er--Chinese, I should say. What is the little incident to which you refer?"
I satisfied Sir Hugh's curiosity by giving him an account of Angelo's expulsion from the Communion.
"Did you not ask him the cause of it?" inquired he.
"We have never seen him from that day to this," I replied.
"Humph!" remarked the Baronet gravely. "Expelled from the Sacrament, was he? I don't like that, you know: it looks bad. I wish I had known this before I asked him to spend his Christmas here. Of course, for aught we know to the contrary, he may only have been guilty of some little trifle which we men of the world"--he swept his arm towards me as he spoke, and I felt quite proud of the title conferred on me--"think nothing of; but still it looks suspicious. A shade rests on his character, and till it be cleared off I would prefer him at any other table than mine. I ought to be certain that he is a person of fair repute--that is a duty I owe my guests; but I don't see what I can do now that matters have gone so far. I cannot, in the circumstances, ask him point-blank to produce a certificate of good character, so I must display the hospitality of the Orientals, and entertain the guest without inquiring too closely into his character."