Lafelle roused from his sulk and gulped down his wrath. Ames went on to express his desire for vengeance upon one obscure Philip O. Ketchim, broker, promoter, church elder, and Sunday school superintendent. Lafelle became interested. The conversation grew more and more animated. Hours passed.
Then at length Ames rose and rang for his valet. “My God, Lafelle, the idea’s a corker!” he cried, his eyes ablaze. “Where’d you get it?”
Lafelle laughed softly. “From a book entitled ‘Confessions of a Roman Catholic Priest,’ written anonymously, but, they say, by a young attaché of the Vatican who was insane at the time. I never learned his name. However, he was apparently well informed on matters Colombian.”
“And what do you call the law?”
“The law of ‘en manos muertas’,” replied Lafelle.
“Well,” exclaimed Ames, “again I take off my hat to your 117 churchly system! And now,” he continued eagerly, “cable the Pope at once. I’ll have the operator send your code ashore by wireless, and the message will go to Rome to-night. Tell the old man you’ve got influence at work in Washington that is––well, more than strong, and that the prospects for defeating the immigration bill are excellent.”
Lafelle arose and stood for a moment looking about the room. “Before I retire, my friend,” he said, “I would like to express again the admiration which the tasteful luxury of this smoking room has aroused in me, and to ask, if I may, whether those stained-glass windows up there are merely fanciful portraits?”
Ames quickly glanced up at the faces of the beautiful women portrayed in the rectangular glass windows which lined the room just below the ceiling. They were exquisitely painted, in vivid colors, and so set as to be illuminated during the day by sunlight, and at night by strong electric lamps behind them. “Why do you ask?” he inquired in wonder.
“Because,” returned Lafelle, “if I mistake not, I have seen a portrait similar to that one,” pointing up at one of the windows, where a sad, wistful face of rare loveliness looked down upon them.
Ames started slightly. “Where, may I ask?” he said in a controlled voice.