J.
F. Powers
DAWN
Father Vdovic placed the envelope before the Archbishop
and stepped back. He gave the Archbishop more than enough time
to read what was written on the envelope, time to digest
The Pope
and, down in the corner, the
Personal,
and then he stepped forward.
"It was in the collection yesterday," he said. "At Cathedral."
"Peter's Pence, Father?"
Father Udovic nodded. He'd checked that. It had been in with
the special Peter's Pence envelopes, and not with the regular Sunday
ones.
"Well, then ..." The Archbishop's right hand opened over the
envelope, then stopped, and came to roost again, uneasily, on the
edge of the desk.
Father Udovic shifted a foot, popped a knuckle in his big toe.
The envelope was a bad thing all right. They'd never received any–
thing like it. The Archbishop was doing what Father Udovic had done
when confronted by the envelope, thinking twice, which was what
Monsignor Renton at Cathedral had done, and his curates be–
fore him, and his housekeeper who counted the collection. In the
end, each had seen the envelope as a hot potato and passed it on.
But the Archbishop couldn't do that. He didn't know
what
might be
inside. Even Father Udovic, who had held it up to a strong light,
didn't know. That was the hell of it.
The Archbishop continued to stare at the envelope. He still
hadn't touched it.
"It beats me," said Father Udovic, moving backwards. He sank
down on the leather sofa.
"Was there something else, Father?"
Father Udovic got up quickly and went out of the office-
