Surely you've got
an uncle or something? How about His Reverence the PARROCO? Couldn't he
swear--?"
"My mother is in Paradise."
"In Paradise, is she? That's where you ought to be, my son. Just sign
this declaration, please. Then perhaps you will meet your mother sooner
than you expect. Can't read or write? Well, put your cross to it and
may the Madonna help you! For I can't. I've done my best to be
impartial, but God alone can steer a fool. He makes a specialty of it,
they tell me. If so, you've got a sporting chance. . . ."
Overjoyed with this incriminating deposition, His Worship gave orders
for the prisoner's formal arrest. Aloud he remarked:
"What have I always said? Beware of wimple folks. They are the deep
ones. Their naivete is nothing but a disguise. Here we have a case in
point. This boy, from all accounts, is the pure type of the callous
murderer. He stutters. He makes uncalled-for gurglings of a bestial
nature. He has pendulous ears, and certain other stigmata of
degeneration which are familiar to all conversant with criminal
anthropology.
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