d; go on, I am listening.
You have, as you said, only told us one-quarter of what these priests
are doing. Where do the other three-quarters come in?"

Silas rapped the bowl against the arm of his chair to clear it the
better, and, twisting his great bulk toward O'Day, said slowly: "If I
tell you, will you listen and keep on listening until I get through?"

Felix bowed his head in acquiescence. The others, knowing what a story
from Silas meant, craned their necks in his direction.

"Well! One night last winter--over on Avenue A, snow on the ground,
mind you, and cold as Greenland--a row broke out on the third floor of a
tenement house. In the snow on the sidewalk shivered a half-naked girl.
She was sobbing. Her father had come in from his night shift at the gas
house, crazy drunk, a piece of lead pipe in his hand.

"Two or three people had stopped, gazed at the girl, and passed her
by. Tenement-house rows are too common in some districts to be bothered
over. A policeman crossed the street, peered up the stairway, listened
to the screams inside, looked the sobbing girl over, and kept on his
way, swinging his club. A priest came along--one I know, a well-set-up
man, who can take care of himself, no matter where. He touched the
girl's arm and drew her inside the doorway, his head bent to hear her
story. Then he went up--in jumps--two steps at a time--stumbling in the
dark, picking himself up again, catching at the rail to help him mount
the quicker, the screams overhead increasing at every step. When he
reached the door, it was bolted on the inside. He let drive with his
shoulder and in it went. The girl's mother was crouching in the far
corner of the room, behind a heavy sofa. The drunken husband stood over
her, trying to get at her skull with the piece of lead pipe.

"At the bursting in of the door the brute wheeled and, with an oath,
made straight for the priest, the weapon in his fist.

"The priest stepped clear of the door-jamb, moved under the single
gas-jet, drew out his crucifix, and held it up.

"The drunkard stood staring.

"The priest advanced step by step. The brute cowered, staggered back,
and fell in a heap on the floor."

"Magnificent," broke out Lockwood. "Superb! And well told. You would
make a great actor, Murford."

"Perhaps," answered Silas with a reproving look, "but don't forget that
it HAPPENED."

"I haven't a doubt of it," exclaimed Felix quietly, "but please go on,
Mr. Murford. To me y