“Do you know him, Father?”
“I do.”
“And is he well?”
“I am just wondering,” mused the priest evasively, “whether he has much money. He was wealthy once, but he lost heavily on some oil investments.”
“But is he well, Father?”
“It is two months,” pursued the priest, “since I was in residence at San Luis Obispo.”
At this moment the train stopped at a small station, and there was heard a commotion without.
“There’s something wrong, I fear,” said the Father, glad of an opportunity to change the subject. He now regretted that he had bidden Mrs. Feehan take her holiday at Los Angeles.
“Reverend,” said the porter, entering suddenly, “there’s a man at the station who’s been injured by a freight, and he is calling for a priest. He may die any moment.”
“Excuse me,” said Father Galligan, rising quickly. “When I come back I have something to tell you.”