He stood there passively, his hands folded within the wide sleeves of his dark brown gown. Grant noticed that his feet were not sandaled but bare, and remembered that there had been no warning of his approach when he had presented himself in the newsagent's. The looker-on in Grant wondered whether it was an appearance of humility or the convenience of a noiseless tread which appealed so greatly to Herbert.
"This is Brother Aloysius," the prior said, and left them with a blessing, a much more poetic performance than the doorkeeper's.
"I am from Messrs. Erskine, Smythe, and Erskine, the lawyers in the Temple," Grant said. "You are Herbert Gotobed."
"I am Brother Aloysius."
"You were Herbert Gotobed."
"I never heard of him."
Grant considered him for a moment. "I'm sorry," he said. "We're looking for Gotobed about a legacy that has been left him."
"Yes? If he is a brother of this Order, your news will be of little interest to him."
"If the legacy were big enough, he might realize that he could do far more for the cause of charity outside these walls than in them."
"Our oath is for life. Nothing that happens outside these walls is of interest to any member of our Order."