h on my side, and the truth
is irresistible. And they shall not be able to injure me permanently.
And you, I regret deeply to say, will be hurt, too. I beg you, for no
selfish reason, to consider again the part you intend to play in this
affair."

Such was the conviction, such the unlooked-for fire with which the rector
spoke that Langmaid was visibly shaken and taken aback in spite of
himself.

"Do you mean," he demanded, when he had caught his breath, "that you
intend to attack us publicly?"

"Is that the only punishment you can conceive of?" the rector asked. The
reproach in his voice was in itself a denial.

"I beg your pardon, Hodder," said the lawyer, quickly. "And I am sure
you honestly believe what you say, but--"

"In your heart you, too, believe it, Langmaid. The retribution has
already begun. Nevertheless you will go on--for a while." He held out
his hand, which Langmaid took mechanically. "I bear you no ill-will.
I am sorry that you cannot yet see with sufficient clearness to save
yourself."

Langmaid turned and picked up his hat and stick and left the room without
another word. The bewildered, wistful look which had replaced the
ordinarily benign and cheerful expression haunted Hodder long after
the lawyer had gone. It was the look of a man who has somehow lost
his consciousness of power.

CHAPTER XXIV

THE VESTRY MEETS

At nine o'clock that evening Hodder stood alone in the arched vestry
room, and the sight of the heavy Gothic chairs ranged about the long
table brought up memories of comfortable, genial meetings prolonged by
chat and banter.... The noise of feet, of subdued voices beside the coat
room in the corridor, aroused him. All of the vestry would seem to have
arrived at once.

He regarded them with a detached curiosity as they entered, reading them
with a new insight. The trace of off-handedness in Mr. Plimpton's former
cordiality was not lost upon him--an intimation that his star had set.
Mr. Plimpton had seen many breaches healed--had healed many himself. But
he had never been known as a champion of lost causes.

"Well, here we are, Mr. Hodder, on the stroke," he remarked.
"As a vestry, I think we're entitled to the first prize for promptness.
How about it, Everett?"

Everett Constable was silent.

"Good evening, Mr. Hodder," he said. He did not offer to shake hands,
as Mr. Plimpton had done, but sat down at the far end of the table.
He looked tired and worn; sick, the re