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"So, Father, we have no victim. All we can hope is that another stranger turns up tonight, yet even that would prove risky, because he would inevitably have a family who would seek him out to the ends of the earth. In Viscos everyone works hard to earn the bread brought to us by the baker's van."
"You're right," said the priest. "Perhaps everything we have been through since last night has been mere illusion. Everyone in this village has someone who would miss them, and none of us would want anything to happen to one of our own loved ones. Only three people in this village sleep alone: myself, Berta and Miss Prym."
"Are you offering yourself up for sacrifice, Father?"
"If it's for the good of the community."
The other five felt greatly relieved, suddenly aware that it was a sunny Saturday, that there would be no murder, only a martyrdom. The tension in the sacristy evaporated as if by magic, and the hotel landlady felt so moved she could have kissed the feet of that saintly man.
"There's only one thing," the priest went on. "You would need to convince everyone that it is not a mortal sin to kill a minister of God."
"You can explain it to Viscos yourself!" exclaimed the mayor enthusiastically, already planning the various reforms he could put in place once he had the money, the advertisements he could take out in the regional newspapers, attracting fresh investment because of the tax cuts he could make, drawing in tourists with the changes to the hotel he intended to fund, and having a new telephone line installed that would prove less problematic than the current one.
"I can't do that," said the priest. "Martyrs offer themselves up when the people want to kill them. They never incite their own death, for the Church has always said that life is a gift from God. You'll have to do the explaining."
"Nobody will believe us. They'll consider us to be the very worst kind of murderer if we kill a holy man for money, just as Judas did to Christ."
The priest shrugged. It felt as if the sun had once again gone in, and tension returned to the sacristy.
"Well, that only leaves Berta," the landowner concluded.
After a lengthy pause, it was the priest's turn to speak.
"That woman must suffer greatly with her husband gone. She's done nothing but sit outside her house all these years, alone with the elements and her own boredom. All she does is long for the past. And I'm afraid the poor woman may slowly be going mad: I've often passed by that way and seen her talking to herself."
Again a gust of wind blew through the sacristy, startling the people inside because all the windows were closed.
"She's certainly had a very sad life," the hotel landlady went on. "I think she would give anything to join her beloved. They were married for forty years, you know."
They all knew that, but it was hardly relevant now.
"She's an old woman, near the end of her life," added the landowner. "She's the only person in the village who does nothing of note. I once asked her why she always sat outside her house, even in winter, and do you know what she told me? She said she was watching over our village, so that she could see when Evil arrived."
"Well, she hasn't done very well on that score."
"On the contrary," said the priest, "from what I understand of your conversation, the person who let Evil enter in should also be the one who should drive it out."
Another silence, and everyone knew that a victim had been chosen.
"There's just one thing," the mayor's wife commented. "We know when the sacrifice will be offered up in the interests of the well-being of the village. We know who it will be. Thanks to this sacrifice, a good soul will go to heaven and find eternal joy, rather than remain suffering here on earth. All we need to know now is how."
"Try to speak to all the men in the village," the priest said to the mayor, "and call a meeting in the square for nine o'clock tonight. I think I know how. Drop by here shortly before nine, and the two of us can talk it over."
Before they left, he asked that, while the meeting that night was in progress, the two women should go to Berta's house and keep her talking. Although she never went out at night, it would be best not to take any risks.
Chantal arrived at the bar in time for work. No one was there.
"There's a meeting in the square tonight at nine," the hotel landlady said. "Just for the men."
She didn't need to say anything more. Chantal knew what was going on.
"Did you actually see the gold?"
"Yes, I did, but you should ask the stranger to bring it here. You never know, once he's got what he wants, he might simply decide to disappear."
"He's not mad."
"He is."
