The tone of the request was gentle enough but there was a quality in it that made the suggestion a demand. The professor slipped out of the coat, quaintly quoting Scripture for the ready compliance. “‘If any man ... take away thy coat, let him have thy cloak, also.’ Anything to oblige a friend, Mr. Carfax.” Carfax took the surrendered coat and, feeling in the right-hand pocket, drew out one of the little steel cubes; quite evidently the one which Hartridge had had in his hand at the moment of surprises. “Thank you; that is all,” said the searcher, returning the coat, or rather holding it thoughtfully while Hartridge put it on. And then: “You will hardly deny that we have sufficient evidence now, I take it?” The professor of mathematics spread his hands as one who has done his best and is only regretful that he can do no more. “Let us assume that the case has gone to the jury: what is the verdict, gentlemen?” “You are asking what we mean to do?” Tregarvon demanded. “That is it, precisely. What can you do?--drag me before the nearest justice of the peace on a charge of malicious mischief? You would scarcely wish to disturb the tranquillity of an old and honored institution of learning like Highmount College by such a proceeding as that, would you?” Tregarvon could not help smiling at the audacity of the man, and the New Yorker laughed outright. “You have a most excellent quality of nerve, Mr. Hartridge,” was Carfax’s tribute to the audacity. “As you suggest, our field is rather limited. You are perfectly well aware of the fact that Highmount and its hospitality stand as the only barrier between us and social starvation. Let us try to discover a _modus vivendi_. The verdict is: ‘Guilty, with a recommendation to mercy.’ We are willing to give any man’s sense of humor a chance to redeem itself. You quoted Scripture at me a moment ago, let me return the compliment: ‘Go in peace, and sin no more.’” The professor drew himself up, smiling genially and lifting his hat. “I thank you, gentlemen; you are very considerate,” he returned in gentle irony. After which he walked away, pausing at the edge of the glade to lift his hat again. Carfax drew a long breath when the tall, black-coated figure was lost under the tree shadows. Then he turned upon his companion: “I’m not going to say, ‘I told you so,’ Vance, because I think you came around to my point of view some little time ago. What is the motive--Hartridge’s motive? Is it merely impish humor? Or does it go deeper than that?” Tregarvon was busily engaged in putting two and two together to make the inevitable four. The schoolmaster was in love with Richardia Birrell; the Philadelphian’s first visit to Highmount had made this perfectly plain: could it be possible that Hartridge was acting as Judge Birrell’s agent in the obstacle-raising? And, if so, did Richardia know it?