“You have the advantage of me, sir,” remarked the lawyer, as he vaulted back again into the road.
“No I have not,” replied the other; “you called me a damnable scoundrel, and threatened me with the penitentiary, a little while ago. How’s Toner?”
“I am obliged for your interference just now on my behalf, but must decline any intercourse with one who has been guilty of what I regard as most dishonourable conduct, profaning the sacred name of religion in order to compass some imfamous private end.”
“My ends, Mr. Coristine, are public, not private, nor are they infamous, but for the good of the community and the individuals composing it. I know your firm, Tylor, Woodruff and White, and your firm knows me, Internal Revenue Detective Nash.”
“What! are you the celebrated Mr. Nash of the Penetang Bush Raid?” asked the lawyer, curiosity, and admiration of the man’s skill and courage, overcoming his aversion to the latest detective trick.
“The same at your service, and, as the best thing I can do for you is to take you to your Inn, a dry way out of the dew, you can get on my beast, and I’ll walk for a rest,” replied the detective, alighting.
Coristine was tired, so, after a little pressing, he accepted the mount, and, of course, found it impossible to refuse his confidence to the man whose horse he was riding.
“What did you do with your clerical garb?” he asked.
“Have it on,” replied Nash; “it’s a great make up. This coat of black cord has a lot of turned up and turned down tag ends, the same with the vest, and the soft hat can be knocked into any shape with a dift of the fist. With these, and three collars, and moustache, beard, and whiskers, that I carry in my pocket, I can assume half-a-dozen characters and more.”
“How do you justify your assumption of the priestly character?”
“I want information, and assume any character to get it, in every case being guilty of deception. You think my last role unjustifiable because of the confessional. Had I simulated a Methodist parson, or a Presbyterian minister, or a Church of England divine, you would have thought much less of it; and yet, if there is any bad in the thing, the one is as bad as the other. Personally, I regard the confessional as a piece of superstitious ecclesiastical machinery, and am ready to utilize it, like any other superstition, for the purpose of obtaining information. Talk about personating the clergy; I have even been bold enough to appear as a lawyer, a quaker, a college professor, a sailor, and an actress.”