a weapon you are putting into my hands to-day—a weapon with which I can, at any moment, blacken your character, and blast your career?"
"I realize nothing," replied the rector, "except that a woman's good name has been attacked, and that it is my duty to defend her. If you choose to divert the knowledge I have given you to the base uses of slander, that will be your sin, not mine."
At last Westgate began to wake up. His face paled and he rose to his feet.
"Mr. Farrar," he said, "I think this interview had better come to an end."
"I quite agree with you," was the response. "My errand is done. I have the explanation I came for. I believe that is all."
"So far as I am concerned, it is."
There were no more words on either side. The rector bowed politely, and then left the office, as clear-eyed, as high-minded and unafraid as when he entered it.
But on Westgate's soul there lay a burden of knowledge which was to tempt him sorely in the days to come.
The story of the sensational episode at the conference with the bishop did not reach Barry Malleson's ears until the second day after its occurrence. It came, as one might have expected it would, burdened with exaggerations. Barry was greatly disturbed. He walked aimlessly for a while about his quarters at the mill, then he put on his overcoat, hat and gloves, and announced that he was going up to see Phil Westgate. But when he got as far as Main Street he changed his mind, and started down-town instead. It had occurred to him that before attacking Westgate it might be wise to get the facts in the case directly from Mrs. Bradley. He would be more sure of his ground. When he reached Mrs. Bradley's office in the Potter Building he found her engaged. He excused himself, backed out, paced
