The priest was still frowning. Whether that was because he was puzzled or simply because a frown was his way of maintaining composure in the midst of barbarity, Sanchez could not determine.
“I still don’t understand why.”
Neither did Sanchez—and the matter was beginning to intrigue him. Given Buckley’s past activities, of course, there were a multitude of possible suspects. One of them being . . . well, Sanchez himself.
He decided it would be best to depart now, before that thought occured to the Americans also. Besides, Cardinal Bedmar needed to learn of this matter at once. So, with a flourish, he made his farewells and came as close to scampering out the door as Ruy Sanchez de Casador y Ortiz ever came to scampering.
* * *
Which was not very close at all. After he was gone, Sharon Nichols shook her head and said: “I swear, that man will swagger into his own grave.” But she was smiling when she said it. The first genuine smile on her face since she’d entered that horrible room.