Silas Wadham, mine-owner; William Hayes, merchant, and E. H. Wilson, capitalist, subscribed to Hampstead’s bond. Each was a big man in his way; each had unbounded faith in the integrity and good sense of the minister. They were not men to be swept off their feet by mere surface currents. They laughed a little and rallied John upon his plight, yet he knew somehow by the bend of the jaw when they dipped their pens in ink and with clamped lips subscribed their signatures, that these men were his unshakably. One circumstance might have seemed strange. None of them were members of All People’s. Yet this was not because there were not men in All People’s who would have qualified as unhesitatingly; but because John had a feeling that he was being assailed as a community character rather than as a clerical one. Within ten minutes the formalities in Judge Brennan’s chamber were concluded, Hampstead was free, but as he turned to Searle waiting suavely, backed by the suggestive presence of the two detectives, there came suddenly into his mind the memory that Rollie Burbeck’s I.O.U. for eleven hundred dollars was in his safe deposit box in the envelope marked "Wadham Currency." This was a chaos-producing thought. If Searle once got an eye on that card, it would start innumerable trains of suspicion, each of which must center on the young bank cashier. In his present state, that boy was too weak to resist pressure of any sort. He would crumble and go to pieces, And yet, it was not the thought of the exposure and ruin of this spoiled young man that moved Hampstead to another of those acts which only riveted the chains of suspicion more tightly upon himself. It was the vision of the mother who only an hour before had murmured tremulously: "If anything should happen to him, I should not be able to live." "Searle!" exclaimed the minister passionately. "You must not proceed with this. If you are a man of any heart, you will not persist against my pleadings. I tell you frankly there are secrets in that box which, while they would do you no good, could be used to ruin innocent men—guilty ones, too, perhaps; but the innocent with the guilty." Hampstead was speaking hoarsely, his voice raised and trembling with an excitement and lack of nerve control he had never exhibited before in public. The prosecutor’s face pictured surprise and even gloating, but his eyes expressed a purpose unshaken. "Confidences in my possession must be respected," Hampstead went on, arguing vehemently. "The confidences of a patient to his physician, of a penitent to his priest, are respected by the law. Because some of these confidences happen to be in writing, you have no right to violate them." "And I tell you I have no intention to violate them," Searle returned testily. "My order is a warrant of search for a diamond necklace." "And I tell you I will not respect the order of the court," blazed the minister. "You shall not examine the box!"