Jack Swaggart looked apprehensively at William Sochalski, who was fidgeting and looked uneasy. William got up from his chair and paced back and forth in the confines of the small room. He confided to Jack that he wasn’t sure why, but felt it had more to do with the priest than the church itself. Jack listened to his concern, but eventually dismissed it, attributing it to the fact the boy was Jewish and was feeling uncomfortable in a Catholic setting. Yet Jack couldn’t have been more wrong.
Carrying a tray loaded with tea cups and croissants, Father Hiller headed to his private chamber. He left the tray and quickly walked to the basement, to fetch his two guests. With a disarming smile he bade them to follow. Jack and William, now seated in his private study, dug into the welcoming food, while the priest left them alone stating he had to see to the service. Jack was starting to relax, enjoying the food while his eyes admired the numerous books on the tiered bookshelves. As pre-arranged, the deacon was getting the service underway, while Hiller headed to the rectory to await his phone call. He drummed his fingers impatiently, wishing that the Sturmbannführer would hurry up and call. It was taking longer than expected, so he settled into his arm chair and picked up his tea that he had set aside earlier. He made a face. The tea was now lukewarm, but the thought of turning the Jew over to the authorities produced a smirk on his face and relegated the momentary annoyance of the cold tea to the back of his mind.