sed, I think you said?
Do I know him?"

"He is not my friend," answered Brother Warboise gruffly.

"His name is Weekes," said Brother Copas, answering the Master's
puzzled look. "He was a master-printer in his time, an able fellow,
but addicted to drink and improvident. His downfall involved that of
Brother Warboise's stationery business, and Brother Warboise has
never forgiven him."

"Dear, dear!" Master Blanchminster passed a hand over his brow.
"But if that's so, I don't see--"

"It's a curious story," said Brother Copas, smiling.

"It's one you have no right to meddle with, any way," growled Brother
Warboise; "and, what's more, you can't know anything about it."

"It came to me through the child Corona," pursued Brother Copas
imperturbably. "You took her to Weekes's house to tea one afternoon,
and she had it from Weekes's wife. It's astonishing how these women
will talk."

"I've known some men too, for that matter--"

"It's useless for you to keep interrupting. The Master has asked for
information, and I am going to tell him the story--that is, sir, if
you can spare a few minutes to hear it."

"You are sure it will take but a few minutes?" asked Master
Blanchminster doubtfully.

"Eh, Master?" Brother Copas laughed. "Did you, too, find me
somewhat prolix this afternoon?"

"Well, you shall tell me the story. But since it is not good for us
to be standing here among the river damps, I suggest that you turn
back with me towards St. Hospital, and where the path widens so that
we can walk three abreast you shall begin."

"With your leave, Master, I would be excused," said Brother Warboise.

"Oh, no, you won't," Brother Copas assured him. "For unless you come
too, I promise to leave out all the discreditable part of the story
and paint you with a halo. . . . It began, sir, in this way," he took
up the tale as they reached the wider path, "when the man Weekes fell
under a paralytic stroke, Warboise took occasion to call on him.
Perhaps, Brother, you will tell us why."

"I saw in his seizure the visitation of God's wrath," said Warboise.
"The man had done me a notorious wrong. He had been a swindler, and
my business was destroyed through him."

"Mrs. Weekes said that even the sight of the wretch's affliction did
not hinder our Brother from denouncing him. He sat down in a chair
facing the paralytic, and talked of the debt: 'which now,' said he,
'you will never be able to pay.' . . . Nay, Maste