THE WISDOM OF FATHER BROWN
gentlemen? I have no staff at present, but I can get you anything simple myself."
"Much obliged," said Flambeau. "So you are the proprietor?"
"Yes," said the dark man, dropping back a little into his motionless manner. "My waiters are all Italians, you see, and I thought it only fair they should see their countryman beat the black, if he really can do it. You know the great fight between Malvoli and Nigger Ned is coming off after all?"
"I'm afraid we can't wait to trouble your hospitality seriously," said Father Brown. "But my friend would be glad of a glass of sherry, I'm sure, to keep out the cold and drink success to the Latin champion."
Flambeau did not understand the sherry, but he did not object to it in the least. He could only say amiably: "Oh, thank you very much."
"Sherry, sir—certainly," said their host, turning to his hostel. "Excuse me if I detain you a few minutes. As I told you, I have no staff——" And he went towards the black windows of his shuttered and unlighted inn.
"Oh, it doesn't really matter," began Flambeau, but the man turned to reassure him.
"I have the keys," he said. "I could find my way in the dark."
"I didn't mean——" began Father Brown.
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