d, somehow, that
the favoured man would be Ransford. However, it was Brake--and Brake she
married, and, as you say, Ransford was best man. Of course, Brake took
his wife off to London--and from the day of her wedding, I never saw her
again."

"Did you ever see Brake again?" asked Bryce. The old clergyman shook his
head.

"Yes!" he said sadly. "I did see Brake again--under grievous, grievous
circumstances!"

"You won't mind telling me what circumstances?" suggested Bryce. "I will
keep your confidence, Mr. Gilwaters."

"There is really no secret in it--if it comes to that," answered the old
man. "I saw John Brake again just once. In a prison cell!"

"A prison cell!" exclaimed Bryce. "And he--a prisoner?"

"He had just been sentenced to ten years' penal servitude," replied Mr.
Gilwaters. "I had heard the sentence--I was present. I got leave to see
him. Ten years' penal servitude!--a terrible punishment. He must have
been released long ago--but I never heard more."

Bryce reflected in silence for a moment--reckoning and calculating.

"When was this--the trial?" he asked.

"It was five years after the marriage--seventeen years ago," replied Mr.
Gilwaters.

"And--what had he been doing?" inquired Bryce.

"Stealing the bank's money," answered the old man. "I forget what the
technical offence was--embezzlement, or something of that sort. There
was not much evidence came out, for it was impossible to offer any
defence, and he pleaded guilty. But I gathered from what I heard that
something of this sort occurred. Brake was a branch manager. He was, as
it were, pounced upon one morning by an inspector, who found that his
cash was short by two or three thousand pounds. The bank people seemed
to have been unusually strict and even severe--Brake, it was said, had
some explanation, but it was swept aside and he was given in charge. And
the sentence was as I said just now--a very savage one, I thought.
But there had recently been some bad cases of that sort in the banking
world, and I suppose the judge felt that he must make an example. Yes--a
most trying affair!--I have a report of the case somewhere, which I cut
out of a London newspaper at the time."

Mr. Gilwaters rose and turned to an old desk in the corner of his
room, and after some rummaging of papers in a drawer, produced a
newspaper-cutting book and traced an insertion in its pages. He handed
the book to his visitor.

"There is the account," he said. "You can