“I trust my servant was not rude,” he said. “Poor creature! Her twisted mind causes her to believe that all persons who do not dwell within our walls are evil and to be feared.”
As the monk spoke, he smiled in a kindly, friendly way, yet his keen eyes were appraising the two visitors. Though it was cold and windy on the door step, he did not hasten to invite Penny and Mr. Ayling inside. He stood holding the half-opened door in his hand.
“You must excuse our lack of hospitality,” he said, fingering a gold chain which hung from his thin shoulders. “We have much cleaning and remodeling to do before we are ready to receive visitors.”
Mr. Ayling explained that his call was one of business, adding that he represented the Barnes Mutual Insurance Co.
“Such matters must be discussed with me later,” the monk said, slowly but firmly closing the door.
“I’m not selling insurance,” Mr. Ayling assured him. Deliberately he leaned against the jamb, preventing the monk from shutting the door.
Father Benedict bit his lip in annoyance. “May I inquire your business with me?” he asked frostily.
“I’m seeking to trace a client—Mrs. Nathaniel Hawthorne.”
“I know of no such person. Deeply I regret that I cannot help you, sir. If you will excuse me—”
“The woman may have used an assumed name,” Mr. Ayling cut in. “She has a weakness—er, I mean a liking for cult practices.”