“For your suggestions I thank you. You shall be welcome whenever you choose to call—in your individual capacity.”
“You are a sly dog, Judge. I confess myself completely out-generaled in diplomacy, and have dropped it. Hereafter I wish to be known only as your friend. In the language of the Spaniards, buenas noches, amizo mio.”
Never more of a diplomat than when he was claiming to have abandoned diplomacy, the priest took his departure, knowing that he had left thoughts that would cling and bear fruit. He understood that, though the Judge might have been able to handle the simple-minded Saguanaldo by his diplomacy, every good has its better and he had been bested without realizing it. It is the true test of wit that cuts so smoothly one does not know of his wound at the time it is given.
The Jesuit sought Bishop Lonzello and spoke imperiously and exultantly:
“I am to have an order from the American governor that the soldiers are to protect in possession either side of the controversy that may have possession of churches and convents. You want to summon all you can command and seize at night on all these buildings that you can. You haven’t half of them now, and by this means you may secure practically all of them. And the American army is pledged to maintain you in possession of them, once you are in charge. There is no time for delay.”
Lonzello was not a man who needed to have explained to him the advantage this gave the friars. He sprang up, before the Jesuit was through speaking, and began preparing to go on the street and set his machinery in motion.
“You will not find me sleeping,” he said.
The Jesuit leered: “Am I to confess that young woman as my reward?”
Lonzello opened the door and showed him from the room, kicking at him as he passed. Once the Jesuit was outside, however, he said:
“I will send the girl to the cathedral at ten o’clock tomorrow.”