“You know your people—­how inquisitive they are.  If you toll the church bells a certain number are sure to gather in the market-place in order to learn, even at risk of their lives, what is happening.  When they see a torchlight procession being formed, you will obtain a sufficient quantity, I feel sure, to carry the Holy Image of the Saint; and some to spare.  Also, I see no reason why the priests should be present in full strength.  Toll the bells, parroco!  You will get your men.”

His Reverence was thinking hard.  At last he said: 

“Your project appeals to me.  It does credit to your heart.  It would do credit to our island.  I will try to arrange it.  But if—­”

“You mean, don’t you, if the ashes continue to fall, notwithstanding our expiatory demonstration?  Let me see.  There was that disgraceful tumult in the town yesterday.  Saint Dodekanus is perhaps too deeply vexed against his people to concede them a grace under such circumstances.  I imagine him to be very displeased with us just now.  That being the case, the fall of ashes might well be permitted to continue for our castigation, despite the penitential act.  What do you think?”

Nobody knows what the parroco thought.  It was not his habit to think aloud, much less to express opinions on ticklish arguments such as these.  But he could corroborate the fact with a clear conscience.

“It was indeed enough to anger a saint in Heaven!  Seven more of the wounded have succumbed to their injuries; three of them little children.  Ah, these deeds of violence and bloodshed, for which Nepenthe was ever infamous!  When will the peace of God descend upon our island?”

Mr. Parker had no idea when that might happen.  He was not particularly keen about the peace of God—­he was keen about keeping his job.  None the less, he managed to move his head up and down, in a decidedly becoming fashion.

“And now,” concluded the parroco, “with your kind permission, I will take my leave, to confer with the clergy if I can discover any of them, as to what can be done towards forming a procession.  I confess that the more I think upon your idea, Signor Parker, the more I like it.  If only we can find a sufficient number to participate!”

“Have no fear of that.  Only toll the bells.  You will get your men.  This eruption is enough to make anybody religious.  I mean—­you know what I mean, parroco.”

The acolytes having rekindled their torches His Reverence, a happier man, stepped boldly out of doors and was swallowed up in the murk.

This is a succinct and faithful account of the genesis of that procession which was to become famous in Nepenthean annals.  However much, in later years, certain envious folks claim to be the originators of the project it was, from first to last, the Commissioner’s idea.  Honour to whom honour is due.  He deserved, and took, all credit for it.  Meanwhile he sat down at his table once more, and stared into the pitchy darkness.