Stupidly he halted. He began to grow frightened; the unfriendly faces paralyzed his brain; the words he had planned so carefully slipped all at once away from him. He pointed at the still figure lying in front of the pulpit and burst into vehement, frantic speech. "He stole the communion set!" he cried shrilly. "He stole it! He--" Poor William got no further. Many persons rose. The two men in opposite corners of the gallery who had wept started toward him; one of them opened his lips, as though, like crazy William, he was about to address the congregation. The paralyzed spectators came to their senses. Hands were laid upon William. The deacons and elders of the church went toward the gallery steps, Grandfather Gaumer among them. Even Alvin in his mortification and shame had still feeling enough to go to his father's side. "Come away, pop!" he begged. "Ach, be quiet, pop, and come away!" "He tells me to be quiet!" cried William in the same shrill tone. "My son tells me to be quiet!" Grandfather Gaumer laid a firm hand on his shoulder. "Come with me, William." But William was not to be got so quietly away. In the front pew young David had risen. Was his father not now to have a decent burying? David's face was aflame; he did not see the madness in the shivering figure and the bright eyes of William Koehler. William belonged with his son Alvin, and both were hateful. But David had no chance to speak. The preacher foolishly held up a forbidding hand to poor William. "You cannot say such a thing at this time and not confess that it is not true. The accused cannot answer for himself." Poor William rubbed his hands over his eyes. He still had great respect for the authority of preachers. Besides, he saw John Hartman suddenly as a dead man, and since his trouble he had always been afraid of death. No revenge could be visited upon this deaf, impassible object, that was sure! "Ach, I forget my mind!" wailed poor William. "I forget my mind!" Then William could have been led unresisting away. But the preacher, stupidly insistent, held up his hand again. "Do you confess that your accusation is not true?" said he. William placed a hand on either side of his forehead. It seemed as though his head were bursting and he must hold it close together. There was now a murmur of speech in the congregation. This terrible scene had gone on long enough; John Hartman did not need defense from so absurd an accusation. Then the murmur ceased. "No!" cried William. "It is not true. I took the communion set myself!" William was now led away, a final seal put upon the pit in which his honesty and sanity lay buried. Another unforgivable offense was added to the sum of unforgivable offenses of the son of William Koehler toward young David. The confession did not help the Millerstown church to recover its beautiful silver. William's insanity, the congregation thought, was the only bar to its recovery.