"Couldn't help it, Mr. Hilliard. I done the best I could," Billy explained
hastily. "When I got out there, I was up against a tough proposition, and
I guess it would have been tougher yet if I'd stopped to do much
thinking."
"I don't know what your proposition was. But seems to me if it had been
mine I'd have found time to yell: 'All right--coming as soon as I can!' as
I passed the open window," Nick remarked dryly. "Mrs. May'll think we're a
nice lot."
But Billy broke into a flood of explanations, too proud to excuse himself
to Hilliard, after being, as he thought, unjustly reproached, yet willing
to justify himself in the eyes of the lady.
He had dropped from the window, he said, just in time to see a dim
figure, which looked like that of a Padre, disappearing in the distance.
He had started instantly in pursuit. If he had waited to call out under
the window the figure would have disappeared, and he might not have found
it again. As it was the old man had gone so far, and was going so fast,
that it had taken some time to catch up. He--Billy--had yelled. The
Padre--for the Padre it was--had eventually stopped. Then had followed
explanations why the key was in the church door, and the door open; why
the door was afterward locked, and why the Padre was hurrying away from
the Mission, late in the evening, with the key in his pocket.
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