"Ah, well—of course," McQuirk urged, and his tone showed that he was trying, in his crude way, to impress the priest with an honest disinterestedness. "Of course, Jimmy was entitled to his piece."
"Sure!" Bretzenger said, swelling with the little virtue he had found to help him.
"But you say it ought to go back to Baldwin, eh?"
"That's what we think, sir," they chimed.
"Well, he can come and identify it," said Father Daugherty. He slowly wrapped the package up, and, unbuttoning his long, rusty coat a little way down from the throat, stuffed the money into an inner pocket. The deed seemed to madden Bretzenger, and he moved a step forward. The two others saw his motion. The priest did not move, but he turned a look on them, and raised his hand, and McQuirk quailed, a superstitious fear in his eyes. He stiffened his arm before Bretzenger, and stayed him. And then the priest stepped quietly to the safe, and pushed its door to with an arm that seemed too weak and frail to stir the heavy steel.
"It looks to me, Michael," he was saying gently, as if addressing McQuirk alone, "like personal property, and, as I'm the administrator, I suppose
