I don't know." The priest dived forward and extracted a small despatch-box from some unseen receptacle.
"Your keys, please, Monsignor." The other felt wildly about his person.

He saw the steady eyes of the old priest upon him.
"You keep them in your left-hand breast pocket," said the priest slowly and distinctly.
The man felt there, fetched out a bundle of thin, flat keys, and handed them over helplessly.

While the priest turned them over, examining each, the other stared hopelessly out of the window, past the motionless servant in purple who waited with his hand on the car-door.

Surely he knew this place.

.