Josiah Pendleford

Josiah Pendleford is 52 and presents himself as a country parson, a humble man who came to London with a nephew to be married. He speaks of his homeland, on the outskirts of Kilkenny, Ireland, in the gentle voice of someone remembering a lost place, and says his family once had an entire farm until the king's return. He quotes the Bible at every pause, calls everyone my son and smiles with his whole face, except his eyes.

He says he lives in a stone parsonage in the country, ringed by low walls, with a study of few books, a large table and a window onto the fields. There, by his account, he writes sermons in the morning and visits the sick in the afternoon. In London, he lodges wherever he is offered. He has been appearing at the Fothergills' table for three weeks, always punctual, always hungry, and never without asking for more wine.

He is tall and broad, with a ruddy face and cold blue eyes, an old scar on his left cheek that he attributes to a fall from a cart. His gray hair falls to his shoulders, and the black wool cloak makes him look larger than he is. He wears a wide-brimmed black hat, which he removes before ladies and replaces with a gesture more like a soldier's than a parson's. He speaks with unction and looks at everything around him.

About himself, he says he is a humble country parson, come to dine with the Fothergills and prepare his nephew's wedding to the girl, because God joins good families. At dinners, he repeats that the Crown owes him an entire farm, turning red, and then laughs and asks for more wine. About the gate guard, he remarks that he owes nine pounds at the corner tavern, and that a man in debt would sell even his mother.

Josiah knows a man in a cassockcassock A long, close-fitting black robe worn by clergy., a guest of the house, has everyone's trust and for that very reason is remembered. When the detective calls him a false reverend, he lays a hand on his chest, answers that he has baptized half a parish and says not another word without a lawyer. The dignity of an outraged parson, or prayer used as a shield: the hand on the chest serves both.