you might help me.”
Between himself and the Roman Catholic Chaplain of the Irish contingent lay, as Bennett believed, an unbridgeable gulf, but it was noticeable that whenever the Church of England dealt with a human problem she was very likely to call in the Church of Rome. Bennett’s official abhorrence of the Scarlet Woman and all her ways was only equalled by his private respect for Father Victor.
“A thief talking English, is it? Let’s look at his charm. No, it’s not a scapular, Bennett.” He held out his hand.
“But have we any right to open it? A sound whipping—”
“I did not thieve,” protested Kim. “You have hit me kicks all over my body. Now give me my charm and I will go away.”
“Not quite so fast. We’ll look first,” said Father Victor, leisurely rolling out poor Kimball O’Hara’s ne varietur parchment, his clearance-certificate,