“Well, not around here certainly. However, I do know someone in Cleveland.”

“But if I can’t get Duff to go there—”

“You can try. And if you can’t, maybe the man could come here. Maybe he would come for at least an exploratory session. I think this man might be very interested in Duff’s case.”

“He’d charge a fortune.”

“Should that be a consideration now? However, I think I could persuade him to be realistic about his fee, and I could arrange for his lodging. Actually, the man I’m thinking of is my brother.”

“Your brother is a psychiatrist?”

“A graduate of Johns Hopkins and the Menninger Clinic. And I’m sure if he can fit it into his schedule, he’ll be eager to see Duff.”

“My son is a medical curiosity now?”

“Oh, come on.”

“Forget Duff for the moment. Do you believe that I have seen General Caine or not?”

After a while he said, “I believe now that you saw someone. I guess Tully convinced me of that much. I still think he’s a nut, though. He shouldn’t be teaching at Ashland College or anywhere else.”

“Why are you so afraid the devil may exist?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

“It’s true.” We were shouting again, now not only to be heard above the noise of the car. “You’re afraid because you don’t want to have to go back to Father Fogarty’s kind of traditional beliefs.”

“Bullshit!”

“Such language from a priest.”

“You drove me to it!”

“Why don’t you say ‘the devil made me do it’?”

He turned toward me, enormously angry, then suddenly laughed. “I’ll go along with what Jim says. If Jim says it’s the devil, I’ll believe it.”

“Jim?”

“My brother. Shall I get in touch with him?”

With some misgivings I agreed. “If Duff confessed anything to him, he wouldn’t go to the police, would he?”

“Of course not.” And then after a pause, “Although he might suggest that Duff go himself.”

That was about the end of the conversation during the drive home. When he stopped the car in the yard, Father Jackson suggested that he would like to meet Duff.

“Not until after he sees your brother, if I can get him to go along with that. I don’t want him to think that anyone’s putting pressure on him.”

“One more thing. Don’t take that idiot’s advice seriously.”

“What advice?”

“You know, about looking for the General’s body.”

“Oh, that.” I got out of the car.

He leaned across the seat. “Don’t. You’re going to need a psychiatrist yourself if you start believing things like that.”

“My husband thinks I need one already.”