THE RINGING of the telephone startled him. It was the second line, the ex-directory one he had had such a devil of a time getting, and it rang only when there was diocese business. He breathed deeply, then picked it up.
“Yes.”
“Is the bishop available?”
“Who is calling, please?”
“Sister Concepta.”
He was jolted for a moment. He hadn’t been ready for this call, and he would have to handle it carefully. “This is the bishop.”
Her voice was warm, eager. “We’re back. We’re in … “
“Don’t,” he said quickly. He had been ready for that. “It’s not necessary for me to know. Are you on an automatic exchange?”
“What?”
“Did you dial directly?”
“Of course,” she snorted. “Do you think I’m daft?”
“Just remember that it’s very important that you not go through an operator when ringing this number. Have you completed your education?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Were you pleased with it?”
“Quite. We studied a bit of everything. I think you might say we earned an honors degree.”
“Good. I’m sure you’ll put your education to good use. Are you ready for a posting?”
“Nearly. We’d both like to make a trip to the diocese to right a great wrong.”
“Are you speaking of the priest’s brother?”
“Yes. The priest is anxious to conduct the sinner’s funeral personally, and I am looking forward to assisting him. We were thinking of a burial at sea.”
“The sinner you’re referring to is the nautical chap—is that what you think?”
“Absolutely.”
Good, that was a relief. “I’m afraid you’re a bit late. I’ve just learned that he left the country last night—sailed away, in fact, to avoid a legal problem.”
“Bound for where?”
“I haven’t been able to determine that.”
“Do you think he might come back?”
“I don’t know, I might have further information later. But listen to me very carefully, now; you and the priest are not to return to this diocese unless I explicitly authorize it, on pain of excommunication. Do you understand that?”
“Excommunication? Are you serious?”
“I am quite serious, I assure you. The order you have chosen requires the strictest obedience, far stricter than the one you left. You must take your instructions from me and from those I delegate, is that quite clear?”
There was a moment’s sullen silence. “Yes, it’s quite clear,” she said, finally. “What are your instructions?”
“I want you to contact the Dublin parish; the number you used before is still good. Take your instructions from the monsignor.”
“But …”
“He understands that you and the priest are to work independently, but you must coordinate your tasks with him. You are still well-financed, I believe?”
“Fairly well. If we undertook any major new charitable work we would have to look for new funds, though.”
“Clear that with the monsignor, as well. I trust you can now handle fund-raising with somewhat more élan than in the past.”
She laughed. “I believe so.”
“Good, best not to rely on luck in these matters. Go now, and do good works. I’ll keep track of you through the monsignor, so don’t call me here unless it’s absolutely necessary, and then only with the proper precautions.”
“I understand.”
“Good luck, then.” He hung up and heaved a great sigh of relief. It wouldn’t do to have those two blundering into his diocese, going after Mark Robinson. He would have to keep close tabs on them. He turned back to the farm accounts he had been working on.