That was Father Capocchio's way: bald to coarseness, whenever he lacked
occasion to be obscene.

To Mr. Eames it would have mattered little, A PRIORI, whether the relic
was a femur or a tibia, a cow or man. In this case, he liked to think
it was the thigh-bone of a saint. He possessed an unusually strong dose
of that Latin PIETAS, that reverence which consists in leaving things
as they are, particularly when they have been described for the benefit
of posterity, with the most engaging candour, by a man of Perrelli's
calibre. Now an insinuation like this could not be slurred over. It was
a downright challenge! The matter must be thrashed out. For four months
he poured over books on surgery and anatomy. Then, having acquired a
knowledge of the subject--adequate, though necessarily superficial--he
applied to the ecclesiastical authorities for permission to view the
relic. It was politely refused. The saintly object, they declared,
could only be exhibited to persons profession the Roman Catholic Faith,
and armed with a special recommendation from the bishop.

"These," he used to say, "are the troubles which lie in wait for a
conscientious annotator."

On another point, that of a derivation of the saint's name, he was
pained to discover in the pages of Father Capocchio an alternative
suggestion, of which more anon. It caused him many sleepless nights.
But on matters pertaining to the climate of Nepenthe, its inhabitants,
products, minerals, water-supply, fisheries, trade, folk-lore,
ethnology,--on questions such as these he had gathered much fresh
information. Sheaves of stimulating footnotes had accumulated on his
desk.