Mark gave the word the English sound, which convinced the detective that the speaker really was a fool who had stumbled into an affair he knew nothing about. But Mark kept up his questioning.
"Did you get to talk much with the Padre? You know, he interests me. By the way, why do you call him by that Spanish name?"
"Oh, I got into the habit in the Philippines; that's what they call a priest there. I was a soldier, you know. Did you ever meet him?"
"No; but I'd like to."
"Perhaps I could introduce you." They were walking through the village now, and Saunders glanced toward the rectory. "There he is."
The chance to get away attracted Saunders; and nothing suited Mark better than to meet the priest at that very time.
"Certainly," he said; "I'd be glad if you introduced me. I'll stop only a moment, and then go on to the hotel with you."
But this did not suit Saunders.
"Oh, no; you must talk to the Padre. He's your kind. You'll like him. I can't wait, though, so I'll have to leave you there."
"By the way," Mark went on with his questioning, "isn't the Padre rather—well, old—to be in such a small and out-of-the-way place? You know I rather thought that, in his church, priests as old as he were in the larger parishes."