“You are a quibbler!” fumed the outraged Judge.  “You made me lie to the police!”

“Well, even if I did,” returned Mr. Pyecroft in his same mild tone, “is there any one else you would rather lie to?”

The Judge glared, almost choking.  “Have you no respect, man, for common decency—­for order—­for the law?”

“For order and decency, yes,—­but as for ordinary law, I fear I have no more respect than your honor has,” Mr. Pyecroft admitted gravely.  “And I acquired my irreverence toward law just as your honor did—­from studying it.”

Judge Harvey stared.

“What!  You’re a lawyer?”

“I have been admitted to the bar, and have been a law clerk, but have never practiced for myself.”

“But last night you said you were a clergyman!”

“I have gone no deeper into theology, sir, than the price of a clerical suit.  And that was for its moral effect on the police.”

“Sir,” exploded the Judge, “you are utterly incorrigible!”

“I trust that I am not, sir,” submitted Mr. Pyecroft gravely, hopefully.

At that moment Jack and Mary appeared on tiptoe in the doorway, alive with curiosity; and directly behind them came Matilda.  Upon the latter Judge Harvey turned.

“Well, Matilda, I certainly want to compliment you on your brother!” he exclaimed with irate sarcasm.

“My bro—­bro—­yes, sir, thank you,” weakly returned poor Matilda.

“No wonder, Mr. Simpson,” the outraged Judge continued, “that your family disowned you!”

“They were justified, certainly, as I told you at the very first,” soberly conceded Mr. Pyecroft.

Jack and Mary demanded enlightenment.  To them Judge Harvey told of the visit of the four police officers, scathingly expounded the character of Matilda’s brother, and explained how he, Judge Harvey, had been forced to protect the outrageous scape-grace.  Through this recital, Mr. Pyecroft, though unbowed by shame, continued to wear his respectful, regretful look.

“Perhaps you will not believe me, Judge Harvey,” he returned courteously, and with the ring of sincerity, when the indictment was ended, “and even if you do believe me, perhaps my statement will mean nothing to you; but I desire none the less to state that I am sorry that you were the person to be deceived by those Jefferson letters.  Of course, I had no idea to whom they were to be sold.  I did them for the autograph dealer, so much for the job—­and did them partly as a lark, though, of course, I do not expect you to appreciate the humor of the affair.  It may be some consolation to you, however, to know that I profited very little from the transaction; the dealer got over ninety per cent of the price you paid.”

The Judge snorted, and stalked incredulously and wrathfully out, Jack and Mary behind him; and Mrs. De Peyster was left alone in the bosom of her family.  Mr. Pyecroft sat silent on the foot of the bed for a space, grave but composed, gazing at a particular scale of the flaking kalsomine.  Then he remarked something about its having been a somewhat trying day and that he believed that he’d be off to bed.