“I see the long white beard of Father Abraham.”
“Oh, the Holy Ghost, the Holy Ghost, the Holy Ghost.”
“Halle-halle-halle-hallelujah,
The beauty of the Lord is joy.”
“A Lutheran padre?” Hilary said. “That sounds harmless. The only Lutheran padre here is old Skinner, who runs the Sailors’ Mission. He is a very fine old man. Shall we go to him, or leave him and go to Paco’s?”
“If it be Mr. Skinner, we must go to him.”
At this moment the whistling stopped, the door of the sitting-room opened, and an old man, with a long white beard, moved slowly out to them with the shuffling shamble of old age. He spoke with the voice of an old, educated man, from one of the United States.
“Is this Miss Kingsborough?” he was saying. “Is that you, Mr. Kingsborough? I was not quite sure, but thought that I heard voices in the hall, besides your servants. You will forgive my coming in like this, to wait for you. I see you don’t remember me, Mr. Kingsborough; my name is Brown, Abner Brown. You have forgotten that you met me at the Club the other night?”
“I’m afraid I have.”
“Well, well, I was one of a crowd; quite a lot went there. We were talking after dinner that night about international crime prevention.”