“You shall have our protection,” said the minister, calmly. “They won't violate the sacredness of the house of God by raising a row. You are safe here, brother Craig. I'm sure all reasonable people will not blame you for the fault of another.” “I believe he's got my money,” cried out Barnett, in a coarse, sullen voice, “and the money of some o' my women folks that's helpless, and he's got to turn it over. Oh, he's got money some'r's, I 'll bet on that!” “The law is your only recourse, Mr. Barnett,” said the preacher, calmly. “Even now you are laying yourself liable to serious prosecution for threatening a man with bodily injury when you can't prove he's wilfully harmed you.” The words told on the mob, many of them being only small depositors, and Barnett found himself without open support. He was silent. Rayburn Miller, who had come up behind the mob and was now in the church, went to Craig's side. Many thought he was proffering his legal services. “One word, Mr. Craig,” he said, touching the quivering arm of the banker. “Oh, you're no loser,” said Craig, turning on him. “There was nothing to your credit.” “I know that,” whispered Miller, “but as attorney for the Bishops, I have a right to ask if their money is safe.” The eyes of the banker went to the ground. “It's gone--every cent of it!” he said. “It was their money that tempted Winship. He'd never seen such a large pile at once.” “You don't mean--” But Miller felt the utter futility of the question on his tongue and turned away. Outside he met Jeff Dukes, one of the town marshals, who had been running, and was very red in the face and out of breath. “Is that mob in thar?” he asked. “Yes, and quiet now,” said Miller. “Let them alone; the important thing is to put the police on Winship's track. Come back down-town.” “I 'll have to git the particulars from Craig fust,” said Dukes. “Are you loser?” “No, but some of my clients are, and I'm ready to stand any expense to catch the thief.” “Well, I 'll see you in a minute, and we 'll heat all the wires out of town. I 'll see you in a minute.” Farther down the street Miller met Dolly Barclay. She had come straight from her home, in an opposite direction from the bank, and had evidently not heard the news. “I'm on my way to prayer-meeting,” she smiled. “I'm getting good to please the old folks, but--” She noticed his pale face. “What is the matter? Has anything--” “Craig's bank has failed,” Rayburn told her briefly. “He says Winship has absconded with all the cash in the vaults.” Dolly stared aghast. “And you--you--” “I had no money there,” broke in Miller. “I was fortunate enough to escape.” “But Alan--Mr. Bishop?” She was studying his face and pondering his unwonted excitement. “Had they money there?” Miller did not answer, but she would not be put aside. “Tell me,” she urged--“tell me that.”