it broke the Padre's heart, but he doesn't look it. Must have hurt him
a little, though. Human nature is human nature--and after all he did
for the Church, too."

"Did he do so much?" questioned Mark.

"Sure he did! You saw the Cathedral, didn't you, when you passed
through the city? Well, the Padre built that, and the big college,
too, the one you see from the train. He was president of the college.
He was the life and soul of the Catholic Church in this section."

"Why was he dropped?"

"Search me," offered the detective. "No one knows that except the
Bishop, I guess. Padre came here six months ago. Some of the young
priests used to come to see him, but seldom any of the older ones. I
got all I know from one of those young chaps--the one I told you I met
on the train. He almost cried over the affair."

"It's sad enough to make any friend cry over it," said Mark; "but
somehow it makes the man seem bigger to me."

"True." Saunders was clearly the Padre's admirer. "They say he had
the best pulpit in London before he went over to the Catholics--big
salary, and all that. Then he had to begin all over again as a layman.
Went to school, by gosh!--dead game! But when they made him a priest
he jumped right to the front. His last money went into the college he
built. He has only five hundred a year to live on now. You know,
Griffin, if it wasn't for the rotten way the Church treated him, I
honestly believe the Padre could put some religion into me. He's a