"I have not avoided any of my obligations." Courtlandt shifted his stick
behind his back. "I was speaking of the church and the open field, as they
impressed me."
"You believe in the tenets of Christianity?"
"Surely! A man must pin his faith and hope to something more stable than
humanity."
"I should like to convert you to my way of thinking," simply.
"Nothing is impossible. Who knows?"
The padre, as they continued onward, offered many openings, but the young
man at his side refused to be drawn into any confidence. So the padre gave
up, for the futility of his efforts became irksome. His own lips were
sealed, so he could not ask point-blank the question that clamored at the
tip of his tongue.
"So you are Miss Harrigan's confessor?"
"Does it strike you strangely?"
"Merely the coincidence."
"If I were not her confessor I should take the liberty of asking you some
questions."
"It is quite possible that I should decline to answer them."
The padre shrugged. "It is patent to me that you will go about this affair
in your own way. I wish you well."
"Thank you. As Miss Harrigan's confessor you doubtless know everything but
the truth."
The padre laughed this time. The shops were closed. The open restaurants
by the water-front held but few idlers. The padre admired the young man's
independence. Most men would have hesitated not a second to pour the tale
into his ears in hope of material assistance. The padre's admiration was
equally proportioned with respect.
"I leave you here," he said. "You will see me frequently at the villa."
"I certainly shall be there frequently. Good night."
Courtlandt quickened his pace which soon brought him alongside the others.
They stopped in front of Abbott's pension, and he tried to persuade them
to come up for a nightcap.
"Nothing to it, my boy," said Harrigan. "I need no nightcap on top of
cognac forty-eight years old. For me that's a whole suit of pajamas."
"You come, Ted."
"Abbey, I wouldn't climb those stairs for a bottle of Horace's Falernian,
served on Seneca's famous citron table."
"Not a friend in the world," Abbott lamented.
Laughingly they hustled him into the hallway and fled. Then Courtlandt
went his way alone. He slept with the dubious satisfaction that the first
day had not gone badly. The wedge had been entered. It remained to be seen
if it could be dislodged.
Harrigan was in a happy temper. He kissed his wife and chucked Nora under
the chin. And then Mrs. Harrigan launched the thunderbolt which, having
been held on the leash for several hours, had, for all of that, lost none
of its ability to blight and scorch.
"James, you are about as hopeless a man as ever was born. You all but
disgraced us this afternoon."