"But we can't get the things out of the cave with a policeman on guard," said Beth. "Unless---- Oh, Jimmy, the hole from the church into the cave! Could we?" "We can," said Jimmy, "if the vicar will let us." "I won't have poor darling Timothy mixed up in it," said Mrs. Eames. "He's never done anything wrong in his life." "I don't think this is very wrong," said Beth. "It's helping a fraud," said Mrs. Eames, "and that is wrong. What is it called? Accessory after the fact or something. Anyhow it's wrong and Timothy mustn't do it. They can arrest me if they like and put me in prison, but I won't have Timothy dragged into it." She put her arm round his neck and stood beside him, her free hand tightly clenched, the fire of defiance in her eyes. "What do you say yourself, sir?" said Jimmy. The vicar said nothing for a while. He may have been trying to make up his mind what he ought to say, or it may have been simply that his wife's clasp on his neck was so tight as to make speech impossible. Jimmy, _advocatus diaboli_ in the matter, put the case for wrong-doing as strongly as he could. The reputations of many eminent men were threatened by a scandal from the defilement of which none of them would ever be able to get wholly clear. The good name of the Church was in peril. The prospects of a great party in the State were in jeopardy. Every man, institution or party has enemies. The enemies of religion, atheists and mockers, would fasten on the bishop and through him would injure the Church and Christianity itself. The enemies of the State, socialists and communists, would swarm round Sir Evelyn and work incalculable mischief. The scandal would give them the opportunity they wanted. He pleaded earnestly. Beth backed his appeal; but Mrs. Eames's eyes still flashed righteous indignation and her fist was still tightly clenched. "Agatha, dear, do let me speak," said the vicar in a hoarse whisper. Mrs. Eames slightly relaxed her hold on his neck. "You've often said," the vicar began addressing his wife, "You've often said that I would be a better man if----" "You couldn't be better, Timothy darling. I've always said that." "----that I would be a better man if only I would do something wrong." "Timothy, dearest one, I never said that." "You did, Aunt Agatha," said Beth. "I've heard you often." "I rather think I have, too," said Jimmy, "once or twice." "I should like to be a better man," said the vicar. "I've always wished to be that." "And you will be," said Jimmy. "If you help us in this you'll be---- By Jove! you'll be the best man I've ever met." "And it isn't very wrong," said Beth. "It isn't wrong at all," said Mary eagerly. "When anyone is wicked enough to make a law against silk stockings it isn't wrong to break it, it's right." "The wronger it is the better man the vicar will be afterwards," said Jimmy. "That's what Mrs. Eames says, and she knows." "If I ever said any such thing----" said Mrs. Eames.