“What do you know about 'up there,'” said he, sternly, “more than myself? Are not your vague words, 'up there,' the proof that it 's as much a mystery to you as to me?”
“Don't get into theology with him, or you 'll have to listen to more blasphemy than you bargain for,” whispered Longworth; and whether the fellow overheard or merely guessed the meaning of the words, he grinned diabolically, and said,—
“Yes, leave that question there.”
“Are you not afraid of the police, my friend?” asked Longworth. “Is it not in their power to send you back to those you have escaped from?”
“They might with another, but the Cardinal Secretary knows me. I have told him I have some business to do at Rome, and want only a day or two to do it, and he knows I will keep my word.”
“My faith, you are a very conscientious galley-slave!” cried Pracontal. “Are you hungry?” and he took a large piece of bread from the sideboard and handed it to him. The man bowed, took the bread, and laid it beside him on the window-board.
“And so you and Antonelli are good friends?” said Longworth sneeringly.
“I did not say so. I only said he knew me, and knew me to be a man of my word.”
“And how could a Cardinal know—” when he got thus far he felt the unfairness of saying what he was about to utter, and stopped, but the man took up the words with perfect calmness, and said:—
“The best and the purest people in this world will now and then have to deal with the lowest and the worst, just as men will drink dirty water when they are parched with thirst.”