Paul looked hopelessly round the little room. He saw himself, as it were, hemmed in and overwhelmed by inexorable fact. Besides, it was all so unexpected. Did Claxted know nothing of these as of other things? Why, indeed, had he himself never seen them in this light?
"P-Protestantism," went on Father Vassall, "taught that it belonged to every man to pick and choose for himself among doctrines, and it therefore had no m-manner of reason for what it did. Calvin's burning of Servetus at Geneva really outrages d-d-decency. And the P-Pilgrim Fathers burnt more witches in a year in New England than the Catholic Church heretics in pre-Reformation England in a c-century."
Paul drew a long breath. "I—I must think," he said confusedly. "I had no idea there was anything on your side." He moved restlessly. "But tell me one thing, don't you teach that all Protestants go to hell?"
Hannam laughed outright.
But the priest did not. He glanced up sharply. "Don't you evangelicals teach," he demanded with the quickness of a rapier thrust, "that all unbelievers go to hell?"
Paul's face was a study. Father Vassall chuckled youthfully as he looked at him. Then his own face changed and his eyes grew tender. "I'm s-sorry," he said, stammering again. "That wasn't q-quite fair. But we do not teach that, and I think you do. No; when you get to P-Purgatory, I'll say to St. Peter: 'Let K-Kestern in; he's a g-g-good boy!'"
He stood up and reached for his hat and stick. "Are you going home?" asked Paul. "Might I walk a little way with you?"
The priest nodded, and turned for a word with Hannam as Paul went to the door.
They were an odd pair as they walked together through the streets. Paul was a good deal taller than his companion, and very serious. The little priest was gay again, and chattered about odd subjects and Cambridge topics. When a don nodded to Vassall, it struck the undergraduate as something he had scarcely realised, that his new acquaintance had a great and growing reputation. But not until they were at the door of the Catholic church could Paul speak his mind.
"I must g-go in here now," said Father Vassall. "I've got to hear the confessions of a lot of nuns much holier than I should be if I lived for a c-century."