Il Gobbo chuckled unpleasantly.
"Besides—folk about here show a great reverence for a holy garb—"
"Always with fitting reservations," interposed the Grand Chamberlain sardonically. "I have had it in mind at some time or other to relieve the Grand Penitentiary. The good man's lungs must be well nigh bursting with the foul air down there by the Tomb of the Apostle. He will welcome a rest!"
"Requiescat," chanted the bravo, imitating the nasal tone of the clergy.
Basil nodded approval.
"He at one time did me the honor of showing some concern in my spiritual welfare. Know you what I replied?"—
The bravo gave a shrug.
"'Father,' I said, when he urged me to confess, 'pray shrive some one worthier than myself. But—if you must needs have a confession—I shall whisper into your holy ear so many interesting little episodes, so many spicy peccadillos, and—to enhance their interest—mention some names so high in the grace of God—'"
"And the reverend father?"
"Looked anathema and vanished"—