"What I want to know," cried Kalon, with an oath, "is when the police are coming for this bloody and wicked sister. She's killed her flesh and blood; she's robbed me of half a million that was just as sacredly mine as--""Come, come, prophet," interrupted Flambeau, with a kind of sneer; "remember that all this world is a cloudland."The hierophant of the sun-god made an effort to climb back on his pedestal. "It is not the mere money," he cried, "though that would equip the cause throughout the world. It is also my beloved one's wishes. To Pauline all this was holy. In Pauline's eyes--"Father Brown suddenly sprang erect, so that his chair fell over flat behind him. He was deathly pale, yet he seemed fired with a hope; his eyes shone.
"That's it!" he cried in a clear voice. "That's the way to begin. In Pauline's eyes--"The tall prophet retreated before the tiny priest in an almost mad disorder. "What do you mean? How dare you?" he cried repeatedly.
"In Pauline's eyes," repeated the priest, his own shining more and more. "Go on--in God's name, go on. The foulest crime the fiends ever prompted feels lighter after confession; and I implore you to confess. Go on, go on--in Pauline's eyes--""Let me go, you devil!" thundered Kalon, struggling like a giant in bonds. "Who are you, you cursed spy, to weave your spiders' webs round me, and peep and peer? Let me go.""Shall I stop him?" asked Flambeau, bounding towards the exit, for Kalon had already thrown the door wide open.
"No; let him pass," said Father Brown, with a strange deep sigh that seemed to come from the depths of the universe. "Let Cain pass by, for he belongs to God."There was a long-drawn silence in the room when he had left it, which was to Flambeau's fierce wits one long agony of interrogation. Miss Joan Stacey very coolly tidied up the papers on her desk.
"Father," said Flambeau at last, "it is my duty, not my curiosity only--it is my duty to find out, if I can, who committed the crime.""Which crime?" asked Father Brown.
"The one we are dealing with, of course," replied his impatient friend.
"We are dealing with two crimes," said Brown, "crimes of very different weight--and by very different criminals."Miss Joan Stacey, having collected and put away her papers, proceeded to lock up her drawer. Father Brown went on, noticing her as little as she noticed him.
"The two crimes," he observed, "were committed against the same weakness of the same person, in a struggle for her money.
The author of the larger crime found himself thwarted by the smaller crime; the author of the smaller crime got the money.""Oh, don't go on like a lecturer," groaned Flambeau; "put it in a few words.""I can put it in one word," answered his friend.
Miss Joan Stacey skewered her business-like black hat on to her head with a business-like black frown before a little mirror, and, as the conversation proceeded, took her handbag and umbrella in an unhurried style, and left the room.
"The truth is one word, and a short one," said Father Brown.
"Pauline Stacey was blind."
"Blind!" repeated Flambeau, and rose slowly to his whole huge stature.
"She was subject to it by blood," Brown proceeded. "Her sister would have started eyeglasses if Pauline would have let her; but it was her special philosophy or fad that one must not encourage such diseases by yielding to them. She would not admit the cloud; or she tried to dispel it by will. So her eyes got worse and worse with straining; but the worst strain was to come.
