“dr. vince is at lunch,” said the maid who answered the bell.

“please tell him i must see him at once,” said samuel. “it's something very important.”

he went in and sat down in the library, and the doctor came, looking anxious. “what is it now?” he asked.

and samuel turned to him a face of anguish. “doctor,” he said, “i've just had a terrible experience.”

“what is it, samuel?”

“i hardly know how to tell you,” said the boy. “i know a man—a very wicked man; and i went to him to try to convert him, and to bring him into the church. and he laughed at me, and at the church, too. he said there are wicked men in it—in st. matthew's, dr. vince! he told me who they are, and what they are doing! and, doctor—i can't believe that you know about it—that you would let such things go on!”

the other was staring at him in alarm. “my dear boy,” he said, “there are many wicked men in the world, and i cannot know everything.”

“ah, but this is terrible, doctor! you will have to find out about it—you cannot let such men stay in the church.”

the other rose and closed the door of his study. then he drew his chair close to samuel. “now,” he said, “what is it?”

“it's mr. wygant,” said samuel.

“mr. wygant!” cried the other in dismay.

“yes, dr. vince.”

“what has he done?”

“did you know that it was he who beat the child-labor bill—that he named the state senator on purpose to do it?”

the doctor was staring at him. “the child-labor bill!” he gasped. “is that what you mean?”

“yes, dr. vince,” said samuel. “surely you didn't know that!”

“why, i know that mr. wygant is very much opposed to the bill. he has opposed it openly. he has a perfect right to do that, hasn't he?”'

“but to name the state senator to beat it, doctor!”

“well, my boy, mr. wygant is very much interested in politics; and, of course, he would use his influence. why not?”

“but, dr. vince—it was a wicked thing! think of sophie!”

“but, my boy—haven't we found sophie a place in mr. wygant's own home?”

“yes, doctor! but there are all the others! think of the suffering and misery in that dreadful mill! and mr. wygant pays such low wages. and he is such a rich man—he might help the children if he would.”

“really, samuel—” began the doctor.

but the boy, seeing the frown of displeasure on his face, rushed on swiftly. “that's only the beginning! listen to me! there's mr. hickman!”

“mr. hickman!”

“mr. henry hickman, the lawyer. he has done even worse things—”

and suddenly the clergyman clenched his hands. “really, samuel!” he cried. “this is too much! you are exceeding all patience!”

“doctor!” exclaimed the boy in anguish.

“it seems to me,” the doctor continued, “that you owe it to me to consider more carefully. you have been treated very kindly here—you have been favored in more ways than one.”

“but what has that to do with it?” cried the other wildly.

“it is necessary that you should remember your place. it is certainly not becoming for you, a mere boy, and filling a subordinate position, to come to me with gossip concerning the vestry of my church.”

“a subordinate position!” echoed samuel dazed. “but what has my position to do with it?”

“it has a great deal to do with it, samuel.”

the boy was staring at him. “you don't understand me!” he cried. “i am not doing this for myself! i am not setting myself up! i am thinking of the saving of the church!”

“what do you mean—saving the church?”

“why, doctor—just see! i went to reform a man; and he sneered at me. he would not have anything to do with the church, because such wicked men as mr. hickman were in it. he said it was their money that saved them from exposure—he said—”

“what has mr. hickman done?” demanded the other quickly.

“he bribed the city council, sir! he bribed it to beat the water bill.”

dr. vince got up from his chair and began to pace the floor nervously. “tell me, doctor!” cried samuel. “please tell me! surely you didn't know that!”

the other turned to him suddenly. “i don't think you quite realize the circumstances,” said he. “you come to me with this tale about mr. hickman. do you know that he is my brother-in-law?”

samuel clutched the arms of his chair and stared aghast. “your brother-in-law!” he gasped.

“yes,” said the other. “he is my wife's only brother.”

samuel was dumb with dismay. and the doctor continued to pace the floor. “you see,” he said, “the position you put me in.”

“yes,” said the boy. “i see. it's very terrible.” but then he rushed on in dreadful anxiety: “but, doctor, you didn't know it. oh, i'm sure—please tell me that you didn't know it!”

“i didn't know it!” exclaimed the doctor. “and what is more, i don't know it now! i have heard these rumors, of course. mr. hickman is a man of vast responsibilities, and he has many enemies. am i to believe every tale that i hear about him?”

“no,” said samuel, taken aback. “but this is something that everyone knows.”

“everyone!” cried the other. “who is everyone? who told it to you?”

“i—i can't tell,” stammered the boy.

“how does he know it?” continued the doctor. “and what sort of a man is he? is he a good man?”

“no,” admitted samuel weakly. “i am afraid he is not.”

“is he a man who loves and serves others? a man who never speaks falsehood—whom you would believe in a matter that involved your dearest friends? would believe him if he told you that i was a briber and a scoundrel?”

samuel was obliged to admit that charlie swift was not a man like that. “dr. vince,” he said quickly, “i admit that i am at fault. i have come to you too soon. i will find out about these things; and if they are true, i will prove them to you. if they are not, i will go away in shame, and never come to trouble you again as long as i live.”

samuel said this very humbly; and yet there was a note of grim resolution in his voice—which the doctor did not fail to note. “but, samuel!” he protested. “why—why should you meddle in these things?”

“meddle in them!” exclaimed the other. “surely, if they are true, i have to. you don't mean that if they were proven, you would let such men remain in your church?”

“i don't think,” said the doctor gravely, “that i can say what i should do in case of anything so terrible.”

“no,” was samuel's reply, “you are right. the first thing is to find out the truth.”

and so samuel took his departure.

he went straight to his friend finnegan.

“hello!” exclaimed finnegan. then, “what about that job of mine?” he asked with a broad grin.

“dr. vince says he will look out for you,” was the boy's reply. “but i'm not ready to talk about that yet. there's something else come up.”

he waited until his friend had attended to the wants of a customer, and until the customer had consumed a glass of beer and departed. then he called the bartender into a corner.

“mr. finnegan,” he said, “i want to know something very important.”

“what is it?” asked the other.

“do you know mr. hickman—henry hickman, the lawyer?”

“he's not on my calling list,” said finnegan. “i know him by sight.”

“i've heard it said that he had something to do with beating a water bill in the city council. did he?”

“you bet your life he did!” said the bartender with a grin.

“is it true that he bought up the council?”

“you bet your life it's true!”

“and is it true that mr. callahan got some of the money?”

finnegan glanced at the other suspiciously. “say,” he said, “what's all this about, anyhow?”

“listen,” said samuel gravely. “you know that mr. hickman is a member of my church. and he's dr. vince's brother-in-law, which makes it more complicated yet. dr. vince has heard these terrible stories, and you can see how awkward it is for him. he cannot let such evil-doers go unrebuked.”

“gee!” said the other. “what's he going to do?”

“i don't know,” said samuel. “he hasn't told me that. first, you see, he has to be sure that the thing is true. and, of course, mr. hickman wouldn't tell.”

“no,” said finnegan. “hardly!”

“and it isn't easy for the doctor to find out. you see—he's a clergyman, and he only meets good people. but i told him i would find out for him.”

“i see,” said finnegan.

“what i want,” said the boy, “is to be able to tell him that i heard it from the lips of one of the men who got the money. i won't have to say who it is—he'll take my word for that. do you suppose mr. callahan would talk about it?”

the bartender thought for a moment. “you wait here,” he said. “the boss has only stepped round the corner; and perhaps i can get the doctor what he wants.”

so samuel sat down and waited; and in a few minutes john callahan came in. he was a thick-set and red-faced irishman, good-natured and pleasant looking-not at all like the desperado samuel had imagined.

“say, john,” said finnegan. “this boy here used to work for bertie lockman; and he's got a girl works for the wygants.”

“so!” said callahan.

“and what do you think,” went on the other, “he heard old henry hickman talking—he says you fellows held him up on that water bill.”

“go on!” said callahan. “did he say that?”

“he did,” said finnegan, without giving samuel a chance to reply.

“well,” said the other, “he's a damned liar, and he knows it. it was a dead straight proposition, and we hadn't a thing to do with it. there was an independent water company that wanted a franchise—and it would have given the city its water for just half. every time i pay my water bill i am sorry i didn't hold out. it would have been cheaper for me in the end.”

“he says it cost him sixty thousand,” remarked finnegan.

“maybe,” said the other. “you can't tell what the organization got. all i know is that ten of us fellows in the council got two thousand apiece out of it.”

there was a pause. samuel was listening with his hands clenched tightly.

“did he pay it to you himself?” asked finnegan.

“who, hickman? no, he paid it to slattery, and slattery came here from his office. why, is he trying to crawl out of that part of it?”

“no, not exactly. but he makes a great fuss about being held up.”

“yes!” said callahan. “i dare say! he's got his new franchise, and he and the lockman estate are clearing about ten thousand a month out of it. and my two thousand was gone the week i got it—it had cost me twice that to get elected—and without counting the free drinks. it's a great graft, being a supervisor, ain't it?”

“why did you do it then?” asked samuel in a faint voice.

“i'll never do it again, young fellow,” said the saloon keeper. “i'm the honorable john for the rest of my life, and i guess that'll do me. and the next time old henry hickman wants his dirty work done, he can hunt up somebody that needs the money more than me!”

then the honorable john went on to discuss the politics of lockmanville, and to lay bare the shameless and grotesque corruption in a town where business interests were fighting. the trouble was, apparently, that the people were beginning to rebel—they were tired of being robbed in so many different ways, and they went to the polls to find redress. and time and again, after they had elected new men to carry out their will, the great concerns had stepped in and bought out the law-makers. the last time it had been the unions that made the trouble; and three of the last supervisors had been labor leaders—“the worst skates of all,” as callahan phrased it.

samuel listened, while one by one the last of his illusions were torn to shreds. there had been a general scramble to get favors from the new government of the town; and the scramblers seemed to include every pious and respectable member of st. matthew's whose name samuel had ever heard. there was old mr. curtis, another of the vestrymen, who passed the plate every sunday morning, and looked like a study of the olympian jove. he wanted to pile boxes on the sidewalks in front of his warehouse, and he had come to slattery and paid him two hundred dollars.

“and mr. wygant!” exclaimed samuel, as a sudden thought came to him. “is it true that he is back of the organization?”

“good god!” laughed callahan. “did you hear him say that?”

“some one else told me,” was the reply.

“well,” said the other, “the truth is that wygant got cold feet before the election, and he came to slattery and fixed it. i know that, for slattery told me. we had him bluffed clean—i don't think we'd ever have got in at all if it hadn't been for his money.”

“i see!” whispered the boy.

“oh, he's a smooth guy!” laughed the saloon keeper. “look at that new franchise got for his trolley road—ninety-nine years, and anything he wants in the meantime! and then to hear him making reform speeches! that's what makes me mad about them fellows up on the hill. they get a thousand dollars for every one we get; but they are tip-top swells, and they wouldn't speak to one of us low grafters on the street. and they're eminent citizens and pillars of the church—wouldn't it make you sick?”

“yes,” said samuel in a low voice, “that's just what it does. it makes me sick!”