The first to sit up was the little priest, who scratched his head with a face of foolish wonder.

"Not so sure he was murdered out of the season," answered the little priest, with simplicity.

The little priest said nothing; there seemed nothing appropriate to say.

In the darkness to her left the little old priest coughed.

The little priest met blue and green eyes in turn, and nodded.

The fat little priest seemed to want to say more.

Who would have thought the little fat priest so hard to kill.

Despite his round build, the little priest had no trouble keeping up with the Roman.

The fat little priest dodged back as if water had been thrown in his face.

He certainly was not going to attempt to argue the little priest out of it.