"No," the vicar returned. "As you see, there is another chalice and two patens in the safe, one paten of gold, but it was not taken, not even touched, I fancy. It was the chalice and the chalice only that the thieves came for."
"It seems foolish to keep such a valuable chalice in the vestry," I said.
"It is kept in the bank as a rule," the vicar answered. "I got it from the bank on Saturday and it would have gone back this morning. Of course it was not possible to keep such a gift a secret. The church papers had paragraphs about it, which some of the daily papers copied."
"Every gang in London knew of its existence then," I said.
"True," said the curate, "and you might go further than that and remember that much of our work here lies in some very poor and some very disreputable neighborhoods."
"It does," said the vicar. "Amongst our parishioners we must have many thieves, I am afraid."
"There are thieves and thieves," said Mr. Hayes, "and I fancy there are many who would not meddle with the sacred vessels of a church. Superstition perhaps, but a powerful deterrent."
The vicar shook his head, evidently not agreeing with this opinion.
"Probably I have had more to do with thieves than you have, vicar," he said with a smile, and turning to me he went on: "I am very interested in a hooligans' club we have. They are a rough lot I can assure you. Many of them have seen the inside of a jail, some of them will again possibly; but there's a leaven of good stuff in them. Saints have been reared from such poor material before now."
"When do you meet?" I asked.