and paid over to the cure to
purchase the bells for his little gray church at Pont du Sable, have
disappeared and that his reverence refuses to give any account.

Despite his hearty Bohemian spirit, Tanrade, like most musicians, is a
dreamer and as ready as a child to believe anything and anybody. Being a
master of the pianoforte and a composer of rare talent, he can hardly be
called sane. And yet, though I have seen him enthusiastic, misled, moved
to tears over nothing, indignant over an imaginary insult, or ready to
forgive any one who could be fool enough to be his enemy, I have never
known him so thoroughly upset or so positive in his convictions as when
the other morning, as I sat loafing before my fire, he entered my den.

"It is incredible, _mon vieux_, incredible!" he gasped, throwing himself
disconsolately into my arm-chair. "I have just been to the presbytery.
Not only does he refuse to give an account of the money, but he declines
to offer any explanation beyond the one that he "spent it." Moreover, he
sits hunched up before his stove in his little room off the kitchen,
chewing the end of a cigarette. Why, he didn't even ask me to have a
drink--the cure, _mon ami_--our cure--_Mon Dieu_, what a mess! Ah, _mon
Dieu!_"

He sank his chin in his hands and gazed at me with a look of utter
despair.

I regarded him keenly, then I went to the decanter and poured out for
him a stiff glass of applejack.

"Drink that," said I, "and get normal."

With an impetuous gesture he waved it away.

"No, not now!" he exclaimed, "wait until I tell you all--nothing until I
tell you."

"Go on, then," I returned, "I want to hear all about this wretched
business. Go slow and tell it to me from top to bottom. I am not as
convinced of the cure's guilt as you are, old boy. There may be nothing
in it more than a pack of village lies; and if there is a vestige of the
truth, we may, by putting our heads together, help matters."

He started to speak, but I held up my hand.

"One thing before you proceed," I declared with conviction. "I can no
more believe the cure is dishonest than Alice or yourself. It is
ridiculous to presume so for a moment. I have known the cure too well.
He is a prince. He has a heart as big as all outdoors. Look at the good
he's done in this village! There is not a vagabond in it but will tell
you he is as right as rain. Ask the people he helps what they think of
him, they'll tell you 'he's just the cure fo