"You have cause to hate the preacher more than any one," replied Douglas simply.
Inez' chin came up proudly. "I'm glad you realize that!" she exclaimed.
"But it's not exactly evidence," said Scott suddenly, "that Charleton and I had anything to do with the affair."
"No, nor, if they did put over the job, that I knew about it," added Inez.
"Which job do you refer to?" asked Peter.
"Running the preacher," replied Inez.
"But how did you happen to know he had been run?" Peter's eyes were half shut. "You came home early and didn't go up to the fire."
Inez bit her lip. Peter smiled grimly, his long, sallow face wearier than ever in the lamplight. "You aren't the kind to get away with a plot, Inez. Leave that to Charleton."
"No reason why some one couldn't have telephoned, is here?" demanded Scott.
"No reason at all," replied Peter, "except that Inez' phone has been out of order for a week and I promised to come up to-morrow and fix it for her."
"I didn't think," said Douglas, "that you were the kind to get mixed up in a rough deal like this, Inez. I'll admit that Fowler's sermon was raw and all that, but still you are no hand to blink facts. Didn't you have it coming to you?"
Inez' lip twitched. She looked from one man to the other, finally focussing on Peter.
"Did I?" she asked.
"Yes, you did," he answered. "You've got to lay the blame finally on the women. Otherwise civilization would cease."
"Oh, forget it!" growled Scott. "What are you
