"I understand," said Horace, interested; "but the theory is impossible. No one could do that even if they desired."
"Tims would have desired it and accomplished it had I thought of suggesting it to him. Here is what would have happened. He escapes from the prison, which is easy enough, and comes straight to me. We never met but once. Therefore not a man in the world would have thought of looking for him at my house. A week later he is transferred to the house of Judy Trainor, who has been expecting a sick son from California, a boy who disappeared ten years previous and is probably dead. I arrange her expectation, and the neighbors are invited to rejoice with her over the finding of her son. He spends a month or two in the house recovering from his illness, and when he appears in public he knows as much about the past of Tommy Trainor as Tommy ever knew. He is welcomed by his old friends. They recognize him from his resemblance to his father, old Micky Trainor. He slips into his position comfortably, and in five years the whole neighborhood would go to court and swear Tims into a lunatic asylum if he ever tried to resume his own personality."
The two men set up a shout at this sound conclusion.
"After all, there are consequences as dark as the gallows," said Horace.
"For instance," said the priest with a wave of his hand, "sleeping under the eyes of these painted ghosts."
"Poor Tim Hurley," said Horace, "little he thought he'd be a ghost to-night."
"He's not to be regretted," replied the other, "except for the heart that suffers by his absence. He is with God. Death is the one moment of our career when we throw ourselves absolutely into the arms of God."
The two were getting ready to slip between the sheets of the pompous colonial bed, when Horace began to laugh softly to himself. He kept up the chuckling until they were lying side by side in the darkened room.
"I am sure, I have a share in that chuckle," said Monsignor.
"Shades of my ancestors," murmured Horace, "forgive this insult to your pious memory--that I should occupy one bed with an idolatrous priest."
"They have got over all that. In eternity there is no bigotry. But what a pity that two fine boys like us should be kept apart by that awful spirit which prompts men to hate one another for the love of God, and to lie like slaves for the pure love of truth."