"Certainly! I can prove it."
"You are mistaken. I know who the man was, and it was not Stephen Lamar."
"Who was it, then?"
"It was I, Robert Farrar."
"You!"
"It was I. I helped Mrs. Bradley across the bridge."
"Impossible! This man had his arm around the woman's waist."
"I had my arm about Mrs. Bradley's waist. In that manner I assisted her across the bridge. Nor were there any demonstrations of affection of any kind."
The lawyer stared at his visitor in amazement. He could not conceive why this man should so frankly assume responsibility for an act of impropriety properly charged to another.
"I don't believe you," he said, bluntly. "You are trying, for some inscrutable reason, to shield the woman."
"The woman needs no protection save against such slanderous tongues as yours."
Westgate did not resent the remark. Indeed, he did not fully appreciate it. He was too busily engaged in wondering at the minister's attitude. For a moment he did not even reply. Then he asked:
"Am I distinctly to understand that it was you and not Lamar who was with Mrs. Bradley on the bridge?"
"I cannot make the statement of that fact too positive, nor can I state too positively that on that occasion Mrs. Bradley conducted herself as became a modest, refined, pure-minded woman. Westgate, some one has been telling you one of those half-truths which are 'ever the worst of lies,' and you have been only too eager to envelop it with an evil motive."
Still Westgate showed no resentment. He was apparently immersed in thought.
"Do you realize," he inquired at last, "what sort of
