The Sin That Was His

by Frank L. Packard

It was like a shock, a revulsion so strong that for the moment it unnerved him. Raymond scarcely heard his own voice.

“Yes,” he said—his forehead was damp, as he brushed his hand across it.

Monsieur Dupont blew out his cheeks.

“Nom d'un nom!” he exploded. “Ah, your pardon, Monsieur le Curé! But it is mild, a very mild oath, is it not—under the circumstances? Yes—very! I admire cleverness—yes, I do! The man has a head! What an appeal to the emotions! Poignant! Yes, that's the word—poignant. Looking for sympathy! Trying to make an ally of you, Monsieur le Curé!”

“Get rid of the fool! Get rid of the fool!” prompted that inward monitor impatiently.

Raymond, with a significant look, plucked at Monsieur Dupont's sleeve, and led the other across the room away from the bed.

“Do you think so?” he asked, in a lowered voice.

“Eh?” inquired Monsieur blankly. “Think what?”

“What you just said—that he is trying to make an ally of me.”

“Oh, that—zut!” sniffed Monsieur Dupont. “But what else?”