The Power and the Glory

by Graham Greene

it was the lieutenant come back to revenge himself for the spittle . . . He unlocked the heavy iron door and swung it open. A stranger stood in the street, a tall pale thin man with a rather sour mouth, who carried a small suitcase. He named the boy’s mother and asked if this were the señora’s house. Yes, the boy said, but she was asleep. He began to shut the door, but a pointed shoe got in the way. The stranger said, ‘I have only just landed. I came up the river tonight. I thought perhaps . . . I have an introduction for the señora from a great friend of hers.’ ‘She is asleep,’ the boy repeated. ‘If you would let me come in,’ the man said with an odd frightened smile, and suddenly lowering his voice he said to the boy, ‘I am a priest.’ ‘You?’ the boy exclaimed. ‘Yes,’ he said gently. ‘My name is Father