I shook my head. "I know that I am foolish to insist, Rabbi Da Silva," I said. "What you say is just about what the psychiatrists advised. Yet I must open that locked door and see what is hidden in the secret room."
Da Silva smiled gently. "Yes," he agreed, "I see that you must. Bluebeard's wife felt much the same and the charm and universal meaning of that great fable is that humanity must always open the closed doors, even at the risk of destruction. All wisdom urges us to leave well enough alone, yet our instinct is wiser than wisdom itself. God bless you, Mr. Tompkins, and may you come to no harm if you find the key to this locked room."
"Thank you, sir," I said. "Now there remain only the Catholics. Perhaps a parish priest--"
"I shall be very much surprised if a priest advises you differently, Mr. Tompkins," the Rabbi observed. "Drop in again some time and tell me, will you?"
I gave him his check for the Temple Ben-David and went on to the rectory of St. Patrick's-by-the-Gashouse, where I asked for the priest.
"Sure, Father Flanagan's celebrating Mass," the aged housekeeper rebuked me.
"I'll wait," I told her. "I have a contribution for the church. I must give it to him personally."
"Glory be!" she remarked, and withdrew, muttering.
Father Flanagan was a burly, well-built young Irish-American with a friendly smile and a crushing handshake.
"Mrs. Casey tells me you have something for the church, Mr.--"
"My name's Tompkins, Father. I have a check for a thousand dollars. I'll give it to you now. There are no strings to it but I'd like to ask you to help me."
"Well, I'll be--You know, Mr. Tompkins," Father Flanagan told me, "just this morning at breakfast Mrs. Casey said she was praying that we'd finish raising the money for the new altar before the Bishop's visit, and here it is. Isn't that wonderful, now?"
"There you are, Father," I told him, "and welcome to it."
"Thank you, Mr. Tompkins," the priest said simply. "I shall remember you in my prayers and so, no doubt, will Mrs. Casey. You're not a Catholic, of course?"
"No," I replied. "I don't seem to be anything that makes sense medically, legally or morally. I need help."
So I told him the whole story from beginning to end, and added the advice I had already received from Dr. McGregor and Rabbi Da Silva.