Part 2 (1/2)
”Ain't got any.”
”That means you're officially C. of E.”
”What's that, Sam--eh--sir?”
”Church of England--they father queer birds like you.”
”Now, your father and mother?”
”None.”
”How's that?”
”I was found as a kid on the Woolamaloo Road, with a newspaper for a bellyband and a rubber t.i.t in my mouth. The old woman who found me said I dropped from heaven.”
”The other's the most likely place. Now, sign.
”Right! Next.”
Paddy Doolan described himself as an Irishman, born in Kerry, and an egg-merchant by trade.
”Your religion?” asked Sam.
”Sure, I'm a Catholic.”
”When were you at Confession last?”
”It's a long time now, yer riverance; but if yis'll lend me a pound I'll have something worth confessing by early Ma.s.s to-morrow.”
”_Your_ name, now?”
”Sandy Brown.”
”Where from?”
”Glesca, sir.”
”Where's Glesca?”
”The place whaur they mak' gunboats an' bailies.”
”Trade?”
”Coal merchant--I mean stoker.”
”Married?”
”Often.”
A few more questions settled Sandy. Then Claud came forward, adjusting his eyegla.s.s.