"Yes," he confessed resignedly to Searle’s speech, after the necessary interval for consideration, "I suppose I must admit it. When I spoke of fighting, I spoke in heat; partly because I feel the gross injustice and bitter wrong this senseless charge is doing to innocent people other than myself, who am also innocent, and partly because, as I have already told you, I utterly distrust your motive in making the whole of this search. You must be as well aware as I that this charge is the work of a woman who, to speak most charitably, is beside herself with excitement." But Searle only smiled, and observed with urbanity unruffled. "I am sorry, Doctor, that you distrust me. You may have the privilege, of course, of being present when we examine the contents of the box." "Naturally I shall insist upon that," said the minister. "In that case," Searle added with significant emphasis, "I think your observations will convince you that we are solely concerned in a search for the diamonds." "As I like to believe well of all men, I shall hope so," countered the minister; and then, since the demeanor of the officers made it clear there was no more searching to be done, he continued, after a glance at his watch: "If I am to meet Judge Brennan and yourself with my bondsmen at nine o’clock, I suggest that we go from there direct to the bank vaults. They are accessible until midnight, as you doubtless know." "Very good, Doctor," replied Searle in that oily voice which indicated how completely to his satisfaction affairs were progressing. "And now," suggested the minister, with a nod toward the street door, "as the hour is late, I will ask you gentlemen to excuse me." Searle darted a look at Wyatt. "Very sorry, Doc, but I got to stay with you," volunteered the deputy, "and hand you over to the judge." Once more the flush of offense mounted to the cheek of Hampstead. Hand him over to the judge! How galling such language was when used of him! Again he recalled with compunction how many arrests he had caused without an emotion beyond the satisfaction of an angler when he hooks a fish. But he—John Hampstead—minister, preacher, pastor of All People’s; a shining light in a vast metropolitan community! Surely it was something different and infinitely more degrading for him to be arrested than for a mere plasterer, or mayhap a councilman? He had a greater right than they to be wrathful and resentful. Besides, they were guilty. Judges, juries, or their own confessions, had unfailingly so declared. He was innocent, spotlessly innocent of the charge against him. His defenselessness proceeded from relations of comparative intimacy with the actress, and his priestly knowledge of the guilty person. Yet the thought of this helped humor and good sense to triumph again, over his rising choler.