Acting on an impulse, Sheridan decided to take the lawyer into his confidence. He knew that the latter could be trusted not to betray Dallas’ secret. “It is a perplexing problem I’m wrestling with, judge,” he said; “one of the most unpleasant a fellow was ever up against.” “Official or personal?” inquired the lawyer. “Both,” answered Owen grimly. “And that’s where the trouble comes in. It’s the personal element in this case which makes it impossible for me to do my duty.” The judge frowned, and looked at him disapprovingly. “Impossible to do your duty, Owen? I’m sorry to hear you talk like that. If I thought that you really meant it, I should regret very much that I had assisted you to become a post-office inspector. No personal considerations should ever cause an officer of the law to shirk his duty.” “That’s all very well to say,” returned the inspector; “but an officer of the law is human, just like everybody else, and it isn’t reasonable to ask him to arrest the girl he loves.” “What!” exclaimed Judge Lawrence, in astonishment. “Arrest Miss Worthington? What on earth for?” In a few words Owen sadly explained to him the nature of his first assignment as a post-office inspector. The lawyer listened with growing amazement. “This is really most extraordinary! I cannot bring myself to believe that that young woman could be a thief. Come on downtown with me to my office, Owen, and let us talk this case over. Perhaps by putting our heads together we shall be able to convince ourselves of your fiancée’s innocence.” Half an hour later they sat in the lawyer’s private office, and Owen narrated every detail of the case, and displayed the incriminating envelope and the telegram, which he pieced together on Judge Lawrence’s desk. “It is really very strange,” declared the judge. “Looking at all the evidence from the standpoint of a lawyer, I should have no hesitancy in declaring that the young woman must be guilty. And yet----” He stopped short, and, leaning back in his chair, gazed dreamily toward the ceiling. “And yet what?” queried Owen eagerly. “I was just thinking of a scene which took place in this office a few months ago. It was almost the same scene as is being enacted here now; only, in that instance, Miss Worthington sat in the chair which you now occupy, and you were the subject under discussion.” He smiled whimsically. “And I couldn’t help thinking, my dear Owen, as that scene came back to me, how very much superior the other sex is to ours when it comes to loyalty and faith. I remember that Miss Worthington, that day, refused even to consider the possibility of your being guilty. She declared that no matter what evidence might be brought against you, she would never believe that you were a thief.” Owen flushed painfully, and a tender look came to his eyes. “Dear little girl,” he murmured; “I’m a brute to doubt her. But the evidence is convincing, judge. You must admit that there is no----”