ngly into her brother's eyes--not that she was
accusing him of the theft, she was just searching for the truth.

"Do you mean it was to shield me--that I took it? No one could have
taken the money except Mortimer or myself."

"I don't know," answered the girl, wearily; "it's all so terribly new; I
only know that Mortimer did not steal it."

While she was still speaking, the accused man came from the cashier's
office, holding his head as erect as an Indian, not at all as a
half-convicted felon should have slunk through the door; yet withal in
his face was a look of troubled gravity.

When Mortimer saw Allis his face flushed, then went pale in an instant.
He felt that she knew; he had seen her talking earnestly to her brother.
Probably she, too, would think him a thief. He admitted to himself that
the evidence was sufficient to destroy anyone's faith in his innocence,
and he was helpless, quite helpless; he was limited to simple denial,
unless he accused her brother; even had he been so disposed, there was
nothing to back up a denunciation of the boy. He felt a twinge of pain
over Alan's ingratitude; the latter must know that he had put his neck
in a noose to save him. Now that one of them needs be dishonored, why
did not Alan prove himself a man, a Porter--they were a hero breed--and
accept the gage of equity. Even worse, Alan was shielding himself behind
this terrible bulwark of circumstantial evidence which topped him, the
innocent one, on every side.

As he resumed his place at his desk close to the brother and sister,
Alan looked defiantly at him. He could see in the boy's eyes malignant
detestation, a glimmer of triumph, as though he felt that Mortimer
was irrevocably in the toils. The lad was like a strippling Judas; his
attitude filled Mortimer with loathing. He stole a look into the girl's
face. Would she, too, say with her, eyes, "Behold, here is Barabbas!"

A thrill of ecstatic comfort warmed his being. In Allis's eyes was the
first touch of kindness he had known in this hour of trial; faith, and
sorrow, and cheer, and love were all there, striving for mastery;
no furtive weakening, no uncertain questioning, no remonstrance of
reproval--nothing but just unlimited faith and love. If the boy's look
had angered him, had caused him to waver, had made the self-sacrifice
seem too great when repaid with ingratitude, all these thoughts vanished
in an instant, obliterated by that one look of unalterable love. In th