The Letter Killeth Read Online Free PDF Page B

“Have you ordered yet? I hate to eat alone.”
    The table could accommodate four. There seemed no way to refuse.
    â€œMy name is Quirk,” the man said, as he got settled. The waitress appeared, and he ordered a scotch and water. “I hope I’m not drinking alone.” Bill ordered a beer and Mary Alice a Diet Coke. Mr. Fenster said he would settle for his water. “Your father and I were classmates,” Quirk said. “Well, I had a very interesting day. Do you two happen to know Professor Roger Knight?”
    â€œWe’re taking his class,” Mary Alice cried, delighted. “You wouldn’t believe what it’s about.”
    â€œF. Marion Crawford,” Quirk said triumphantly. “And thereby hangs a tale.”
    â€œWho is F. Marion Crawford?” Mr. Fenster said, his voice heavy with disinterest.
    â€œNow, Manfred, this concerns you. At least I hope it will. I know you’re absolutely loaded, and this idea calls for a benefactor.”
    â€œWhat idea?” Mary Alice seemed unaware of the uneasiness Quirk’s arrival had caused Bill’s father.
    Their drinks came. Quirk drank avidly, put down his glass, and hunched forward. “Listen, my children, and you shall hear.”
    Mary Alice would have been audience enough for the enthused alumnus, but Bill found himself caught up in this idea of using the Villa Crawford as the site of a junior year abroad.
    â€œThe place became a convent after Crawford’s death, and one of his daughters joined the community. It is a magnificent structure, designed by the author himself, placed dramatically atop a cliff with the sea below.”
    â€œYou’ve been there?”
    â€œSeveral times.”
    â€œOn business?” Mr. Fenster asked. He seemed to have decided to humor his old classmate.
    â€œI’m retired, my dear fellow. On a pittance, to be sure, but enough to provide leisure to pursue my interests. I am trying to make up for the four years I wasted here. You’ll know what I mean, Manfred.”
    Bill could not remember when he had heard his father referred to by his Christian name, one his grandmother had found in Dante, liking the sound of it, and unaware of the character it named.
    â€œOf course Roger Knight immediately saw the brilliance of the idea.”
    â€œWhat will you do with the nuns?” Mr. Fenster asked.
    â€œThere are only a handful. The upkeep is funded by the Crawford estate, but it is still too expensive a proposition for a relatively small community. They should welcome the chance to move to more economical quarters. Now, Manfred, what do you think?”
    â€œAbout what?”
    â€œThis would be a mere bagatelle for a man with your assets.”
    â€œYou want me to pay for the purchase of this convent?”
    â€œIt is the Villa Crawford, man. It is steeped in history and tradition. Crawford lectured here in the late nineteenth century. Do you know Russell Kirk?”
    â€œThe conservative?”
    â€œIt turns out that he was a great fan of Crawford. There is even a Crawford Society. My fear is that they will have this idea and purchase the villa.”
    â€œThat would make sense.”
    â€œNotre Dame must buy that villa. What do you think?”
    â€œAbout what?”
    â€œFunding the purchase.”
    â€œI never discuss money at table.” Or anywhere else, in Bill’s experience.
    Quirk lifted both hands, as if there were something promissory in the remark. “Okay. Okay. Later. Just let the idea simmer. Talk to these two about it.” He looked pleadingly at Mary Alice, and she nodded. “Good, good. What’s that paper?”
    Mary Alice said, “It’s an alternative campus paper that Bill and I and some others put out.”
    â€œReally? I have a story for you.”
    He looked over both shoulders and then again hunched forward.
    â€œThere have been bomb threats. To the provost, to the dean of Arts and