The Role of Pere Cassati

To lower the long gray skirt of my monk's robe until it touched the deck planks, loosening as I did so the hunting knife securely hidden within my waist-belt, and to draw up the coarse, ample hood, thus better to conceal my features, after the same manner I was pleased to note Cassati wore his, were my first duties. The way of procedure had been made clear; fate had seemingly solved that problem. My sole prospect of attaining the guarded space between decks, of reaching the cell of the man I sought, lay in careful impersonation of the drunken French priest, now lying insensible at my feet. Nor in this imposture did I anticipate serious difficulty. Everything thus far had developed so favorably I became hopeful of the outcome--the inspiration of success brought with it renewed courage and confidence. The exciting incidents of the night had awakened me to the humor of the venture, and I smiled grimly at the rare conceit of the contemplated masquerade. Nor did it promise an especially difficult part to play. We were of similar size, broad-shouldered, stocky men, with smoothly shaven faces, the difference therein hardly likely to be observed by careless eyes, beneath dimly burning lights. I knew enough regarding his peculiarities of voice and manner to imitate both fairly well, so only an accident, or some careless slip of the tongue, would be apt to reveal the fraud. In short, I was armed with audacity, doubting little that I should safely pass the guards. Anyway, there was nothing else for it; 'twas a moment when one must cast timidity to the winds.