Father Jackson smiled for the first time, revealing a badly made partial denture. “The devil,” he said. “Now he’s thinking that the devil prompted him to build the shrine.”

“And you don’t believe in the existence of the devil?”

“Let’s say I believe in the existence of evil. Hitler, Nero, Herod Atinpas, Joe Stalin maybe.”

“But not a supernatural being?”

He smiled again. “Not a commander-­in-­chief with thousands of imps to do his bidding, no.”

“Therefore you also don’t believe in such things as demonic possession.”

“No. I think there is nothing in the recorded history of such things that can’t be explained by hysteria or some other mental aberration or, as I said before, by the power of suggestion. You seem an intelligent woman, Mrs. Caine. Do you believe in the possibility of possession by devils?”

“Of course not.” He was buttering me up to get rid of me, I thought.

“Why did you come here then?”

“Because Duff said he had been here and I thought maybe Father Fogarty could help him. Help both of us.”

“Well, maybe I can help you. I’ll try.”

“What can you do if you think it’s all in my head?”

“I’m not sure all of it is in your head, and perhaps none of it is. What you saw may have a very simple physical explanation. For instance, maybe there’s someone around here who looks like General Caine. Did you know that General Caine was said to be a great lecher, so there could be hundreds of his descendants in this area. And, as for your son, there’s nothing very unusual in a boy’s behavior changing suddenly. Probably the new environment had a lot to do with it. The fact that he’s a stranger here and feels the need to prove himself, that sort of thing.”

“You make me feel much better, Father.”

“I’m glad. And you mustn’t be concerned either by what Father Fogarty said about Mrs. Reddy and Mrs. Scaravelli. Both of them are harmless, although somewhat looney.”

“I know Mrs. Reddy is a bit strange.”

“So is the other one. She’s a local charwoman who has no children and no relatives, as far as I know.”

“Poor thing.”

“If you’re thinking she’s exactly the sort of person to want to add a little excitement to her life by seeing visions, that thought has occurred to me too. And, as for her cancer cure, I’m not sure the local doctors are that reliable as authorities on cancer.”

I went to the door. “Do you want me to call you if anything else happens?”

“Of course.”

He didn’t. He didn’t want to become involved in the problems of a menopausal woman and her delinquent son, especially since they were out-­of-­towners and not even Catholics.