“I got it on Saturday afternoon,” answered the suspected man, with calm dignity. “It came to me in an envelope, by post, and without a line to indicate the sender. There were a few words written inside the flap of the envelope, which I had not noticed when I put the envelope in the fire. I snatched it out again and read them. They were—‘For the little ones, from a well-wisher.’ I was quite overpowered,” continued the young preacher, with a quiver in his tones; “I had seen nothing but darkness and trouble before me, as one of my creditors was pressing me sorely for money, knowing perfectly that I had none. I went to God with my trouble in prayer, and that was His answer.” The deacon was horrified. That the minister should steal the note he could readily understand, but that he should account for its possession in such a manner showed a depth of depravity and a hypocrisy which he had not conceived possible to dwell in man. “You have the envelope, of course?” he sneeringly observed, after a significant silence. “No; unfortunately I have not. I put it into the fire in case my wife should see it, and—and be pained by the thought of me having to accept such help from an unknown friend.” The deacon looked at the constable with a significant jerk of the head. It was quite evident they could make nothing of a man so lost in wickedness, and so ready with plausible excuses. The constable, however, appeared to be foolishly overcome by the cunning reply of the culprit, and made no remark. It therefore devolved upon Aikman to make a noble stand for honesty and religion. “Mr Morrison,” he impressively began, “that bank note which you paid to Blackie the grocer was put in the plate on Sunday by a lady. I saw it, and read the number of it as it lay. After you had passed the plate, it had vanished. Either admit your crime, or take the consequences.” “Now—at last—I understand you,” answered the minister, with more dignity and calmness than his accuser. “You accuse me of stealing the bank note?” “We do, upon the clearest evidence,” snorted the deacon. “Then I deny it emphatically,” said the accused, almost smiling. “I cannot believe you to be in earnest. Steal it! why should I do that? It was put there for the general benefit of the church, I suppose, and that includes me, doesn’t it?” “So you thought when you took it, I’ve no doubt,” angrily returned Aikman, “but you will find yourself grievously mistaken. Constable, I charge that man, in the name of the managers, with the theft of £5. Do your duty.” Matters had now become serious, but the gentleness of the constable smoothed away much that might have been painful. They walked together to the house of the Fiscal, and, after an account of the circumstances had been gone over, the young minister was allowed to go back to his home on his own recognisance.