“Don't be hard on me, brother, least of all now, when I have come home like a snail, as you say, with my shell broken. I was very tired and ill and did all I could. If I had been strong like you and brave-hearted I might have struggled longer. Bid I _did_ tramp the streets and look into the women's faces. She must have been among them, if she's living the life you speak of; but God would not let me find her. Why was it that my search was fruitless? Perhaps there was evil in my heart at first--I don't mind telling you that now--but I swear to you by Him who died for us that at last I only wanted to find my sister that I might save her. But I am such a helpless creature, and----” John put his arm about Paul's shoulders. “Forgive me, brother. I was mad to talk to you like that--I who sent you out on that cruel night and staid at home myself. You did what you could----” “You think that--really?” “Yes, only at the moment it seemed as if we had changed places somehow, and it was I who had lost a sister and been out to find her, and given up the search too soon, and come home empty and useless and broken-spirited, and----” Paul was looking up at him with a face full of astonishment. “Do you really think I did all I could to find her--the nurse, I mean?” But John had turned his own face away, and there was no answer. Paul tried to say something, but he could not find the words. At last in a choked voice he murmured: “We must keep close together, brother; we are in the same boat now.” And feeling for John's hand, he took it and held it, and they sat for some minutes with bowed heads, as if a ghost were going by. “There's nothing but prayer and penance and fasting left to us, is there?” Still John made no reply, and the broken creature began to comfort him. “We have peace here at all events, and you wouldn't, think what temptations come to you in the world when you've lost somebody, and there seems to be nothing left to live for. Shall I tell you what I did? It was in the early morning and I was standing in a doorway in Piccadilly. The cabs and the crowds were gone, and only the nightmen were there swilling up the dirt of the pavements with their hose-pipes and water. 'My poor girl is lost,' I thought, 'We shall never see one another again. This wicked city has ruined her, and our mother, who was so holy, was fond of her when she was a little child.' And then my heart seemed to freeze up within me... and I did it. You'll think I was mad--I went to the police station and told them I had committed a crime. Yes, indeed, I accused myself of murder, and began to give particulars. It was only when they noticed my habit that I remembered the Father, and then I refused to answer any more questions. They put me in a cell, and that was where I spent the night, and next morning I denied everything, and they let me go.”