nd made to sit
upon an up-turned bucket with a slab across his knee and write in his
long hand of the _rue Henri_ the story that the men told.

They were ready to tell. They were eager to spin out every detail of
all they knew for they felt that men stood around them impatient for
the ending of the story, that they might go on with their task.

The Bishop knew that the real struggle was yet to come. He must save
these men, not only because it was his duty as a citizen and a
Christian and a priest, but because he foresaw that his friend,
Jeffrey Whiting, might one day be accused of the killing of a certain
man, and that these men might in that day be able to tell something of
that story which he himself could but must not tell.

The temper of the crowd was perhaps running a little lower when the
story of the men was finished. But the Bishop was by no means sure
that he could hold them back from their purpose. Nevertheless he spoke
simply and with a determination that was not to be mistaken. At the
first move of the leaders of the hill men to carry out their
intention, he said:

"My men, you shall not do this thing. Shall not, I say. Shall not. I
will prevent. I will put this old body of mine between. You shall not
move these men from this spot. And if they are shot, then the bullets
must pass through me.

"You will call this thing justice. But you know in your hearts it is
just one thing--Revenge."

"What business is it of yours?" came an angry voice out of the crowd.

"It is _not_ my business," said the Bishop solemnly. "It is the
business of God. Of your God. Of my God. Am I a meddling priest? Have
I no right to speak God's name to you, because we do not believe all
the same things? My business is with the souls of men--of all men. And
never in my life have I so attended to my own business as I am doing
this minute, when I say to you in the name of God, of the God of my
fathers and your fathers, do not put this sin of murder upon your
souls this night. Have you wives? Have you mothers? Have you
sweethearts? Can you go back to them with blood upon your hands and
say: A man warned us, but he had no _business_!

"Bind these men, I say. Hold them. Fear not. Justice shall be done.
And you will see right in the end. As you believe in your God, oh!
believe me now! You shall see right!"

The Bishop stopped. He had won. He saw it in the faces of the men
about him. God had spoken to their hearts, he saw, even through