The Archdeacon had his faults, but there was no more zealous guardian of the fair fame of the Church and all things appertaining to her. Alf's appearance before the magistrates was discussed at the weekly conference of the staff at the Rectory. Both Mr. Spink and Bobby Chislehurst were present. The former stoutly defended his protégé, and the Archdeacon heard him out. Then he turned to Bobby. "What d'you say, Chislehurst?" he asked. Bobby, in fact, could say little. Ernie had no scruples whatever in suggesting what was untrue to the magistrates, who when on the Bench at all events were officials, and to be treated accordingly, but he would never lie to a man who had won his heart. He had, therefore, in answer to the Cherub's request given an unvarnished account of what had occurred. Bobby now repeated it reluctantly, but without modification. "Exactly," said Mr. Spink. "There's not a tittle of evidence that Alfred really did say what he's accused of saying. And he denies it, point-blank." "I think I'd better see him," said the Archdeacon. Alf came, sore and sulking. Mottled and sour of eye, he stood before the Archdeacon who flicked the lid of his snuff-box, and asked whether he had indeed made the remark attributed to him. "I never said nothing of the sort," answered Alf warmly, almost rudely. "Is it likely? me own sister-in-law and all! See here!" He produced his rent-book. "I'm her landlord. She's months behind. See for yourself! Any other man only me'd have turned her out weeks ago. But, of course, she takes advantage. She would. She's that sort. I never said a word against her." "And there is plenty you could say," chimed in Mr. Spink, who had escorted his friend. "Maybe there is," muttered Alf. The Archdeacon made a grimace. In the matter of sex indeed if in no other, he was and always had been a genuine aristocrat--sensitive, refined, fastidious. "Two of them get soaking together in the _Star_," continued Alf. "Then they start telling each other dirty stories and quarrellin. Ern believes it all and comes and makes a fuss. Mr. Pigott's chairman on the Bench. Course he lays it all on me--Mr. Pigott would. Ern can't do no wrong in his eyes--never could. Won't listen to reason and blames me along of him--because I'm a Churchman. See, he's never forgiven me leaving the Chapel, Mr. Pigott hasn't; and that's the whole story." It was a good card to play; and it did its work. "It's a cleah case to my mind of more sinned against than sinning," said the Archdeacon with a genuinely kind smile. "You had bad luck, Caspar--but a good friend." He shook hands with both young men. "I wish you well and offer you my sympathy. I think you should go and have a word of explanation with our friend, Mr. Pigott, though." "Yes, sir," said Alf. "I'm goin now. I couldn't let it rest there." Alf went straight on to interview the erring chairman in the little villa in Victoria Drive.