Part 94 (1/2)

John answered impetuously, ”But that is impossible.”

”Why impossible, sir? Are you interested in this case?”

A certain quivering moved John's mouth. ”I am Father Storm himself.”

The officer was silent for a moment. Then he turned to the inspector with a pitying smile. ”Another of them,” he said significantly. The psychology of criminals had been an interesting study to this official.

”Wait a minute,” said the inspector, and he went hurriedly through an inner doorway. The officer asked John some questions about his movements since yesterday. John answered vaguely in broken and rather bewildering sentences. Then the inspector returned.

”You are Father Storm?”

”Yes.”

”Do you know of anybody who might wish to personate you?”

”G.o.d forbid that any one should do that!”

”Still, there is some one here who says----”

”Let me see him.”

”Come this way quietly,” said the inspector, and John followed him to the inner room. His pride was all gone, his head was hanging low, and he was a prey to extraordinary agitation.

A man in a black ca.s.sock was sitting at a table making a statement to another officer with an open book before him. His back was to the door, but John knew him in a moment. It was Brother Andrew.

”Then why have you given yourself up?” the officer asked, and Brother Andrew began a rambling and foolish explanation. He had seen it stated in an evening paper that the Father had been traced to the train at Euston, and he thought it a pity--a pity that the police--that the police should waste their time----

”Take care!” said the officer. ”You are in a position that should make you careful of what you say.”

And then the inspector stepped forward, leaving John by the door.

”You still say you are Father Storm?”

”Of course I do,” said Brother Andrew indignantly. ”If I was anybody else, do you think I should come here and give myself up----”

”Then who is this standing behind you?”

Brother Andrew turned and saw John with a start of surprise and a cry of terror. He seemed hardly able to believe in the reality of what was before him, and his restless eyeb.a.l.l.s rolled fearfully. John tried to speak, but he could only utter a few inarticulate sounds.

”Well?” said the inspector. And while John stood with head down and heaving breast, Brother Andrew began to laugh hysterically and to say:

”Don't you know who this is? This is my lay brother! I brought him out of the Brotherhood six months ago, and he has been with me ever since.”

The officers looked at each other. ”Good heavens!” cried Brother Andrew in an imperious voice, ”don't you believe me? You mustn't touch this man. He has done nothing--nothing at all. He is as tender as a woman and wouldn't hurt a fly. What's he doing here?”

The officers also were dropping their heads, and the heartrending voice went on: ”Have you arrested him? You'll do very wrong if you arrest----But perhaps he has given himself up! That would be just like him. He is devoted to me and would tell you any falsehood if he thought it would----But you must send him away. Tell him to go back to his old mother--that's the proper place for him. Good G.o.d! do you think I'm telling you lies?”

There was silence for a moment. ”My poor lad, hush, hus.h.!.+” said John in a tone full of tenderness and authority. Then he turned to the inspector with a pitiful smile of triumph. ”Are you satisfied?” he asked.