Lydia sat down and Levine slowly rose and looked thoughtfully out of the window. "The legality or illegality of the matter has nothing to do with the broader ethics of the case, though I think you will find, gentlemen, that my acts are protected by law," he said. "The virgin land lies there, inhabited by a degenerate race, whose one hope of salvation lay in amalgamation with the white race. An ignorant government, when land was plenty and the tribe was larger, placed certain restrictions on the reservation. When land became scarce, and the tribe dwindled to a handful, those restrictions became wrong. It was inevitable that the whites should override them. Knowing that the ethics of my acts and those of other people would be questioned, I went to Congress to get these restrictions removed. If another two years could have elapsed, before these investigations had been begun, the fair name of Lake City never would have been smirched." Levine's hand on the back of his chair tightened as he looked directly at Billy Norton. Once more Lydia came to her feet. "Oh, Mr. Levine," she exclaimed, "don't put all the blame on Billy! Really, it's my fault. He wouldn't have done it if I hadn't agreed that it was right. And he would have stopped when he found that Dad and his father had taken full blood lands only--why--why, I said that if I could stand his showing that you had been--crooked--up there, I could stand anything and I made him go on." She stopped with a little break in her voice that was not unlike a sob. And for the first time there spread over John Levine's face a blush, so dark, so agonizing, that the men about him turned their eyes away. With a little groan, he sat down. Lydia clasped her hands. "Oh, it is all my fault," she repeated brokenly, "all the trouble that's come to Lake City." Billy Norton jumped up. "That's blamed nonsense!" he began, when Smith interrupted him, impatiently. "Be seated, Norton." Then, gently, to Lydia, "My dear, you mean that, knowing what an investigation would mean to the people you love, you backed young Norton in instigating one. That you knew he would not go on without your backing?" "Yes, sir," faltered Lydia. "Can you tell us why?" asked Elway, still more gently. Lydia, whose cheeks were burning and whose eyes were deep with unshed tears, twisted her hands uncomfortably and looked at Billy. "Go ahead, Lyd," he said, reassuringly. "Because it was right," she said, finally. "Because--Ducit Amor Patriae---you know, because no matter whether the Indians were good or bad, we had made promises to them and they depended on us." She paused, struggling for words.