Father Frontford leaned back in his
uncushioned chair and pressed together his thin finger-tips in the
gesture which was habitual with him, regarding the young man with keen
eyes.
"This property, if I understand you rightly, is now in the possession
of the church?"
"It was given by the will that was found to the church and to missions.
Some of it went to the founding of a home for invalid priests. My aunt
was the one of my relatives who was a churchwoman."
"And if you succeed in finding and establishing this new will, you mean
to divert the money to your own use?"
"If the will is valid, is not the money mine?"
The Father looked at him a moment before he answered. Then he sighed.
"My son," he asked, "would you have put that question six months ago?"
Maurice flushed, but he did not wish to show that he understood.
"Why not?" he demanded.
"There was not then in your heart a wish to wrest property from the
church that you might enjoy it yourself."
"I haven't any wish now to take from the church anything which is not
mine already."
"By divine right or by human?" the Father inquired with cold
inflexibility.
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