“‘That when the same cannot be done openly, I will secretly use the poisonous cup, the strangulation cord, the steel of the poniard, or the leaden bullet ... as I at any time may be directed so to do by any agent of the Pope or superior of the Brotherhood of the Holy Father of the Society of Jesus.’”
There was more of it—about denouncing allegiance to Protestant countries and about voting for and employing only Catholics.
McCall’s angry eyes took in the pile of booklets and cards on the dresser. With one stride he crossed the room and began tearing them into bits. Then his contorted, red face grew pale, his lips quivered.
“Hamilton, you—you—” his voice choked. Robert held his breath. “You contemptible spy. From Corinth! I might have known! And—and—” He stood there for a moment, speechless, his hands clenched, his body trembling. He stepped forward and then suddenly turned to the door.
“Mac! Bill!” Robert found his voice. “Let me explain!”
“Explain? Hell!”
McCall reached the door and, without turning to look around, opened it.
“Bill!”
The door slammed. McCall was gone. The torn leaflets on the floor and the window curtains blew upward and fell again. Robert took a step toward the door and stopped. Bill was gone. In the mirror of his dresser Robert saw how white he was.