_Which of the two men had done it?_
Rev. Mr. Dayne was sitting bowed over his desk, his strong head clamped
in his hands, the morning Post crumpled on the floor beside him. He did
not look up when his assistant entered the office; his response to her
"Good-morning" was of the briefest. Sharlee understood. It was only the
corporeal husk of her friend that was seated at the desk. All the rest
of him was down at Ephesus fighting with the beasts, and grimly resolved
to give no sign from the arena till he had set his foot upon their necks
for the glory of God and the honor of his cloth.
Sharlee herself did not feel conversational. In silence she took off her
things, and, going over to her own desk, began opening the mail. In an
hour, maybe more, maybe less, the Secretary stood at her side, his kind
face calm as ever.
"Well," he said quietly, "how do you explain it?"
Sharlee's eyes offered him bay-leaves for his victory.
"There is a suggestion about it," said she, still rather white, "of
thirty pieces of silver."
"Oh! We can hardly say that. Let us give him the benefit of the doubt,
as long as there can be any doubt.
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