The Collar by Frank O'Connor

the camp wished to see him. His guilty conscience started up again like an aching tooth. What the hell was it now?
    The officer was a tall, good-looking young man about his own age. He had a long, dark face with an obstinate jaw that stuck out like some advertisement for a shaving-soap, and a pleasant, jerky, conciliatory manner.
    â€˜Good morning, padre,’ he said in a harsh voice. ‘My name is Howe. I called about your garden. I believe our chaps have been giving you some trouble.’
    By this time Father Michael would cheerfully have made him a present of the garden.
    â€˜Ah,’ he said with a smile, ‘wasn’t it my own fault for putting temptation in their way?’
    â€˜Well, it’s very nice of you to take it like that,’ Howe said in a tone of mild surprise, ‘but the co is rather indignant. He suggested barbed wire.’
    â€˜Electrified?’ Father Michael asked ironically.
    â€˜No,’ Howe said. ‘Ordinary barbed wire. Pretty effective, you know.’
    â€˜Useless,’ Father Michael said promptly. ‘Don’t worry any more about it. You’ll have a drop of Irish? And ice in it. Go on, you will!’
    â€˜A bit early for me, I’m afraid,’ Howe said, glancing at his watch.
    â€˜Coffee, so,’ said the priest authoritatively. ‘No one leaves this house without some nourishment.’
    He shouted to Elsie for coffee and handed Howe a cigarette. Howe knocked it briskly on the chair and lit it.
    â€˜Now,’ he said in a businesslike tone, ‘this chap you caught last night – how much damage had he done?’
    The question threw Father Michael more than ever on his guard. He wondered how the captain knew.
    â€˜Which chap was this?’ he asked noncommittally.
    â€˜The chap you beat up.’
    â€˜That I beat up?’ echoed Father Michael wonderingly. ‘Who said I beat him up?’
    â€˜He did,’ Howe replied laconically. ‘He expected you to report him, so he decided to give himself up. You seem to have scared him pretty badly,’ he added with a laugh.
    However much Father Michael might have scared the sentry, the sentry had now scared him worse. It seemed the thing was anything but over, and if he wasn’t careful, he might soon find himself involved as a witness against the sentry. It was like the English to expect people to report them! They took everything literally, even to a fit of bad temper.
    â€˜But why did he expect me to report him?’ he asked in bewilderment. ‘When do you say this happened? Last night?’
    â€˜So I’m informed,’ Howe said shortly. ‘Do you do it regularly? … I mean Collins, the man you caught stealing onions last evening,’ he went on, raising his voice as though he thought Father Michael might be slightly deaf, or stupid, or both.
    â€˜Oh, was that his name?’ the priest asked watchfully. ‘Of course, I couldn’t be sure he stole them. There were onions stolen all right, but that’s a different thing.’
    â€˜But I understand you caught him at it,’ Howe said with a frown.
    â€˜Oh, no,’ replied Father Michael gravely. ‘I didn’t actually catch him at anything. I admit I charged him with it, but he denied it at once. At once!’ he repeated earnestly as though this were an important point in the sentry’s favour. ‘It seems, according to what he told me, that he saw some children in my garden and chased them away, and, as they were running, they dropped the onions I found. Those could be kids from the village, of course.’
    â€˜First I’ve heard of anybody from the village,’ Howe said in astonishment. ‘Did you see any kids around, padre?’
    â€˜No,’ Father Michael admitted with some hesitation. ‘I didn’t, but that wouldn’t mean they weren’t there.’
    â€˜I’ll have to ask him about that,’ said Howe.