‘She … she wanted you to speak to me?’ I murmured.

‘She has the most … most luminous smile!’ he whispered. ‘Such purity! It brought me to tears. I cried for hours after that. Uncontrollably. I sobbed throughout Compline. The brothers were horrified.’

‘So … so let me get this straight …’ I frowned. ‘You took the photos from my bag not because you thought … but just in order to …?’

‘To confirm. That it was actually her. Yes. I’d never seen her photograph before.’

I nodded.

‘I think that’s why she wanted you to bring them here. Not to see Father Pietr after all. Not to test Pietr. But to show them to me. As proof.’

‘I see.’ I nodded again (although I didn’t see at all).

‘Because she needed me to bring you her cloak.’

‘Sorry?’ I was yet more befuddled. ‘Her …?’

‘When she was standing outside your door earlier, she was without her special cloak. She wanted me to bring it to you. Father Pietr had given it to me when he entered the Order. For safekeeping. She wanted me to give it to you. I could tell. She told me that you were to be an important part of her story and that I was to confide in you everything that I knew.’

‘She actually spoke to you this time?’ I was incredulous.

‘No. But she told me. I could just … just tell. Same as with your bag and the photographs.’

I was quiet for a while – almost conscience-stricken.

‘I’m just … I’m not sure if I’d be the proper … the correct … recipient of such a … an important artefact,’ I said. And I meant it, too.

‘She told me that you should have it.’

Brother Prosper’s mind was clearly quite made up.

‘I already have the photos,’ I said. ‘And if I can be perfectly frank with you, Brother, the photos are quite enough for me to be going on with.’

‘She wants you to have it.’ Brother Prosper shrugged.

‘But what about Father Hugh?’ I demanded (indignant for Father Hugh, almost).

‘Forget about Father Hugh,’ Brother Prosper snorted, ‘Father Hugh is in the past. This is all about you, now.’

‘Well how can you be sure that I can be trusted?’ I demanded.

‘She’s sure. She trusts you,’ he muttered (in such a manner as to imply that if it was down to him things would be proceeding quite differently).

‘I don’t want the cloak!’ I gulped.

‘Well it’s yours,’ he sighed. ‘So you can like it or lump it.’

He started the laborious process of standing up.

‘Where is it?’ I asked, nervously.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ he clucked. ‘Don’t think about it again. Put it out of your mind. Go back to sleep.’

Brother Prosper grabbed his stick, adjusted his weight, and slowly started to make his way, with some considerable effort, across the room. Every few steps he’d pause, battling to catch his breath.

‘Are you all right, there, Brother?’ I called out at one point, concerned, when the breathing became especially shallow and rapid.