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The Incredulity of Father Brown the journalist's spine. Halket's savage face might seem to have a snarl in its very silhouette when seen sideways; but when seen face to face, the smouldering rage in his eyes had also something of anxiety, as if the ethical and economic riddle were after all a little too much for him; and Horne seemed even more hanging on wires of worry and self-criticism. But about this third man with the goggles, who spoke so sensibly and simply, there was something uncanny; it was like a dead man talking at the table.

As Byrne went out with his message of defiance, and passed along the very narrow passage beside the grocery store, he found the end of it blocked by a strange though strangely familiar figure: short and sturdy, and looking rather quaint when seen in dark outline with its round head and wide hat.

"Father Brown!" cried the astonished journalist. "I think you must have come into the wrong door. You're not likely to be in this little conspiracy."

"Mine is a rather older conspiracy," replied Father Brown smiling, "but it is quite a widespread conspiracy."

"Well," replied Byrne, "you can't imagine any of the people here being within a thousand miles of your concern."

"It is not always easy to tell," replied the priest equably, "but as a matter of fact, there is one person here who's within an inch of it."