sure of any sort. He would crumble and go to pieces, And yet, it was not the thought of the exposure and ruin of this spoiled young man that moved Hampstead to another of those acts which only riveted the chains of suspicion more tightly upon himself. It was the vision of the mother who only an hour before had murmured tremulously: "If anything should happen to him, I should not be able to live."
"Searle!" exclaimed the minister passionately. "You must not proceed with this. If you are a man of any heart, you will not persist against my pleadings. I tell you frankly there are secrets in that box which, while they would do you no good, could be used to ruin innocent men—guilty ones, too, perhaps; but the innocent with the guilty."
Hampstead was speaking hoarsely, his voice raised and trembling with an excitement and lack of nerve control he had never exhibited before in public.
The prosecutor's face pictured surprise and even gloating, but his eyes expressed a purpose unshaken.
"Confidences in my possession must be respected," Hampstead went on, arguing vehemently. "The confidences of a patient to his physician, of a penitent to his priest, are respected by the law. Because some of these confidences happen to be in writing, you have no right to violate them."
"And I tell you I have no intention to violate them," Searle returned testily. "My order is a warrant of search for a diamond necklace."
"And I tell you I will not respect the order of the court," blazed the minister. "You shall not examine the box!"
Judge Mortimer was startled; the bondsmen, although surprised by the minister's show of feeling, were sympathetic.
