"The temptation to take this money, although knowing well enough it was not mine to take, was too great for me. It was the resultant of every force of, I might say, my special business propulsion. This temptation lay along the lines on which I had built up my life: the pursuance of a line of action by which I might get rich quick.--Then came the crash. That special guaranteed stock broke--never to rally in time to save me--sixty-five points. The syndicate sent out warning signals to me that I was just in time to save any part of the three hundred thousand from investment in those stocks. Of course, I got no return from the forty thousand of my personal investment, and the hundred thousand I had used for the deal went down too. So much for the guaranty of the multi-millionaires.--Just then, when everything was chaotic and a big panic threatened, came a call from the manager of the quarries for immediate funds; the men were getting uneasy because pay was two weeks overdue. The syndicate told me to apply the working margin of three hundred thousand at once for this purpose. Of course there was a shortage; it was bound to be discovered. I tried to procrastinate--tried to put off the payment of the men; then came the threatened strike on account of non-payment of wages. I knew it was all up with me. When I saw I must be found out, I fled-- "I never meant to rob them--to rob any one, never--never--" His voice broke slightly on those words. "I believe you." Father Honore spoke for the first time. "Not one man in ten thousand begins by meaning to steal." "I know it; that's what makes the bitterer cud-chewing." "I know--I know." The priest spoke under his breath. He was sitting on the side of the cot, and leaned forward suddenly, his elbows on his knees, his chin resting in his palms, his eyes gazing beyond Champney to something intangible, some inner vision that was at that moment projecting itself from the sensitive plate of consciousness upon the blank of reality. Champney looked at him keenly. He was aware that, for the moment, Father Honore was present with him only in the body. He waited, before speaking, until the priest's eyes turned slowly to his; his position remained the same. Champney went on: "All that you have done to obtain this reprieve, has been done for me--for mine--"; his voice trembled. "A man comes to know the measure of such sacrifice after an experience like mine--I have no words--" "Don't, Champney--don't--" "No, I won't, because I can't--because nothing is adequate. I thought it all out last night. There is but one way to show you, to prove anything to you; I am going to do as you said: make good my manhood--" Father Honore's hand closed upon Champney's. "--And there is but one way in which I can make it good. I can take only a step at a time now, but it's this first step that will start me right." He paused a moment as if to gather strength to voice his decision.