Rev. Mr. Dayne was sitting bowed over his desk, his strong head clamped
in his hands, the morning Post crumpled on the floor beside him. He did
not look up when his assistant entered the office; his response to her
"Good-morning" was of the briefest. Sharlee understood. It was only the
corporeal husk of her friend that was seated at the desk. All the rest
of him was down at Ephesus fighting with the beasts, and grimly resolved
to give no sign from the arena till he had set his foot upon their necks
for the glory of God and the honor of his cloth.

Sharlee herself did not feel conversational. In silence she took off her
things, and, going over to her own desk, began opening the mail. In an
hour, maybe more, maybe less, the Secretary stood at her side, his kind
face calm as ever.

"Well," he said quietly, "how do you explain it?"

Sharlee's eyes offered him bay-leaves for his victory.

"There is a suggestion about it," said she, still rather white, "of
thirty pieces of silver."

"Oh! We can hardly say that. Let us give him the benefit of the doubt,
as long as there can be any doubt. Let us view it for the present as a
death-bed repentance."

Him? Which did he mean?

"No," said Sharlee, "it is not possible to view it that way. The _Post_
has been as familiar with the arguments all along, from beginning to
end, as you or I. It could not be honestly converted any more than you
could. This," said she, struggling to speak calmly, "is treachery."

"Appearances, I am sorry to say, are much that way. Still--I think we
should not condemn the paper unheard."

"Then why not have the hearing at once? An explanation is--"

"I shall seek none," interrupted Mr. Dayne, quietly. "The _Post_ must
volunteer it, if it has any to offer. Of course," he went on, "we know
nothing of the history of that editorial now. Of one thing, however, I
feel absolutely certain; that is, that it was published without the
knowledge of Mr. West. Developments may follow.... As for instance a
shake-up in the staff."

That settled it. This good man whom she admired so much had not
entertained a doubt that the editorial was from the brain and pen of Mr.
Queed.

She said painfully: "As to the effect upon the--the reformatory--"

"It is killed," said Mr. Dayne, and went away to his desk.

Sharlee turned in her desk-chair and looked out of the rain-blurred
windows.

Through and beyond the trees of the park, over ridges of roofs and away
to the we