‘Oh, he’s a good Catholic, father.’ Scratching under his arm-pit, he didn’t look at the priest. ‘He’s dying, and you and I wouldn’t like to have on our conscience what that man …’ ‘We shall be lucky if we haven’t worse.’ ‘What do you mean, father?’ The priest said, ‘He only killed and robbed. He hasn’t betrayed his friends.’ ‘Holy Mother of God, I’ve never …’ ‘We both have,’ the priest said.
