THE INNOCENCE OF FATHER BROWN
crises—when whosoever shall lose his head the same shall save it.
"I think, sir," he said civilly, "that you have some silver in your pocket."
The tall gentleman stared. "Hang it," he cried, "if I choose to give you gold, why should you complain?"
"Because silver is sometimes more valuable than gold," said the priest mildly; "that is, in large quantities."
The stranger looked at him curiously. Then he looked still more curiously up the passage towards the main entrance. Then he looked back at Brown again, and then he looked very carefully at the window beyond Brown's head, still coloured with the after-glow of the storm. Then he seemed to make up his mind. He put one hand on the counter, vaulted over as easily as an acrobat and towered above the priest, putting one tremendous hand upon his collar.
"Stand still," he said, in a hacking whisper. "I don't want to threaten you, but"
"I do want to threaten you," said Father Brown, in a voice like a rolling drum, "I want to threaten you with the worm that dieth not, and the fire that is not quenched."
"You're a rum sort of cloak-room clerk," said the other.
"I am a priest, Monsieur Flambeau," said Brown, "and I am ready to hear your confession."
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