"Is that a crime? Is love forbidden by the Gospel? Yes, I loved her." Miss Arnott winced at the tenderness of his tone. "I would have made her my honoured wife, but that she refused me." "Why did she leave your house?" "Because she loved Finland, the nephew of our Brother Carwell. I judged him too godless for Bithiah, and I forbade her to see him. Also I informed her that I would place her in the care of you, Brother Korah, to be taken back to Koiau. For love of Finland she left my house. Whither she went, I know not." "Yet you were near the scene of the crime on the night on which Bithiah may be supposed to have been murdered." "Certainly. I went there because it was her favourite walk. But I never saw a sign of her. On this Holy Book," Johnson touched the great Bible before him, "I never saw the girl." "What of her treasure, brother?" "The pearls? She took those with her, as she had every right to." "Did you not take them from her dead body that you might pay your debts?" "No!" cried Johnson furiously. "How dare you assume that I am guilty of such an act! I never saw the girl dead. I took no pearls from her body. Where they are, I know no more than you do." "Yet your debts are paid!" "They are--paid in full." "By yourself?" "No. By some one whose name I decline to give." Brand looked down with a sardonic smile. If honest enough himself, the man's methods of conducting an examination were certainly open to criticism. "Such a statement is incredible," he declared; "as a rule, men's debts are not paid by unknown benefactors." "Nevertheless, mine are paid," said Johnson, firmly; "besides, my benefactor is not unknown. You are ignorant of her name, doubtless, but I am not." "Her name!" repeated Korah in surprise; "then it is a woman! Do you dare to stand there and state that you permitted your debts to be paid by a woman?" "I state nothing. I admit nothing. My debts are paid." "And by the proceeds of the pearls," cried Brand, "I do not believe your fiction about a woman. If you killed Bithiah, we will have no murderer for our pastor. If a woman--as you say--paid your debts, you are not fit to occupy our pulpit. It would appear that you add profligacy to----" "Stop!" cried Miss Arnott, rising and coming forward with the sweep and style of a Lady Macbeth. "I forbid you, Brother Korah, to blame your pastor unjustly. His debts have been paid by a woman;" she looked round to emphasize her next words, and bespeak the attention of the congregation. "I am that woman!" she said, drawing herself up.