Or is he? In a decade full of Hitlers and Stalins, it’s hard to worry about a conspiracy that seemingly includes a priest, and that risks its very existence in order to attend a member’s funeral. Waterhouse rolls over and lies on his back on some dead guy’s grave and ponders it. If Mary were here, he would lay out the dilemma for her and she would tell him what to do. But Mary’s in Brisbane, picking out bridesmaids’ dresses and china patterns.