The Mystery of the Invisible Dog - M. V. Carey [19]
Jupe pointed to the place where the white-haired priest had stood holding the candle.
“I saw a light in the church,” he explained. “I ran over to investigate, and when I came in I saw a priest over there. Then someone knocked me down and went out and locked the door.”
“You came over to investigate?” asked the second policeman.
“I was in Mr. Prentice’s apartment,” said Jupe.
“Oh. Oh, yes!” said Father McGovern. “You were with Mr. Prentice this morning, on the street. But you saw no priest in this church tonight. The church has been locked since six. My assistant is away. You couldn’t have seen a priest in this church.”
“Yes he could!” cried Mrs. O’Reilly. “You know he could!”
“Mrs. O’Reilly, the old pastor does not haunt this place,” said the priest.
“Wait a second!” cried someone behind the policemen.
Pete had come down the pavement. With him was Fenton Prentice.
“That young man is my guest,” said Mr. Prentice. “He and his friends are staying overnight with me. This is Pete Crenshaw. He tells me that he woke a short time ago, and that he saw a light in the church. He called it to Jupiter’s attention, and Jupiter went out to investigate.”
The second officer looked with great disapproval from Jupe to Pete and then to Mr.
Prentice.
“It’s bad enough for kids to play cops and robbers,” he said, “without an adult trying to excuse them!”
Mr. Prentice stiffened, then sniffed.
“But there was a light in the church,” said Pete.
“And someone was here,” added Jupe. “A man in dark clothes, with a white collar like the one you wear, Father McGovern. He had white hair. He was over there holding a candle.”
“Tall story,” replied the policeman. “And for your sake, kid, I hope there’s nothing missing.”
“Something is missing from the church,” said Jupiter. “Something that was here last night.”
He looked questioningly at the pastor. “There was a statue over there.” He pointed.
“Down that aisle, next to the window. It was a statue of someone wearing a green cape and a tall, pointed cap. He was holding a staff.”
The two policemen crowded in through the doorway and stared. “By darn, he’s right!” exclaimed the younger of the two. “Last night I was here and there was a statue over there — St Patrick, I guess. Isn’t he the one who’s always dressed in green, and he wears a bishop’s hat — what do you call it?”
Father McGovern stared, too. “A mitre,” he said softly. “St Patrick always wears a mitre and carries a bishop’s staff.”
“So what happened to the statue?” asked the puzzled young cop.
“There has never been a statue of St Patrick in this church,” said Father McGovern.
“This is the Church of St Jude. He’s the patron saint of the impossible.”
“That makes sense,” said the second policeman sarcastically. “Your housekeeper sees the ghost of the old priest, which is impossible, and this kid here sees him, too, which is impossible, and we see a statue here last night which has never been here, so that’s impossible. I don’t suppose you’ve got a bishop’s hat tucked away someplace?”
Father McGovern started. “There was a bishop’s mitre and a staff in the church yesterday,” he said suddenly.
“How come?” asked the policeman.
“We had a pageant,” explained the priest. “For Christmas, you know. The children put it on for the parents. They did it right in the church, the way the old plays were done in the Middle Ages. They had the Nativity scene and the three wise men, and then at the very end all the famous men of the church came in. St Patrick among them, of course.
He’s quite a favourite. We had a bishop’s mitre for him, and a staff and a green cloak. I took them back to the costume house today.”
“Aha!” said Jupiter Jones. “So that’s what happened to the burglar!”
“Huh?” said one of the cops.
“It is perfectly logical,” said Jupiter in his most superior manner. “Last night this neighbourhood was swarming with policemen, all of them searching for a man who had broken into a house on the next street. That man ducked into the church. When it appeared that the church would be searched, he quickly put on the cape and the mitre