"She was right!" The heavy jaws of Mitchell snapped decisively. "The whole thing is a community brain storm. It will pass." "The criminal charge," began John, feeling relieved and yet looking serious. "Nothing to that at all," answered the practical Mitchell, with quick decision. "Ridiculous! You’re morbid from brooding over all this. From the minute this woman comes to you with her admission, you must have just ordinary horse sense enough to see that between us all we can find a way to stop that prosecution without making it necessary to expose anybody at all." Mitchell, observing Hampstead closely, saw that he was rather careless of this; that in fact he only thought of it when he thought of Bessie; that the one thing gnawing into him now was the action of the church. That was something outside of Mitchell’s experience. Whether a church more or less unfrocked his future son-in-law was small concern. He was a man who thought in thousands of miles and millions of people. "Come, Bessie," he called, "we must be getting back to the hotel." "You will stay for dinner, Mr. Mitchell?" suggested John. "No, I’ll be getting back to mother. I just came to tell you that I am with you. My attorneys will be your attorneys. My friends and my influence will be your influence. Some of these newspapers may bark out of the other corner of their mouths after they’ve heard from me. Come on, Bessie!" "But," demurred Bessie, "I’m not coming. I am going to the church to-night to sit beside John." *CHAPTER XL* *THE ELDER IN THE CHAIR* The auditorium of All People’s was cunningly contrived to bring a very large number of people close to each other and to the minister. Roughly semicircular, with bowled main floor and rimmed around by a gallery that edged nearer and nearer at the sides, it was possible to seat fifteen hundred persons where a man in the pulpit could look each individual in the eye, and except where the screen of the gallery broke in, each auditor could see every other auditor. The special meeting for an object unannounced but clearly understood was, of course, an assemblage of the church itself; yet so great was the general interest in what was to transpire, and so willing were the moving spirits to play out their act in public, that no one was turned away. By an instruction from Elder Burbeck, the ushers merely sifted people, sending the members to the main floor, and the non-members up-stairs into the gallery. Hampstead entered the church at precisely eight o’clock. The auditorium was filled with the buzz of many voices, but as the pastor of All People’s advanced down the aisle, this hum gradually ceased, and every eye was turned upon the man, who tall and grave, with features slightly wasted, nevertheless wore a look serenely confident and even happy.