evidence. To my surprise, Lawrie—one of my oldest personal friends and certainly the man of all men in whose perfect honesty I trusted most implicitly—refused to reply to my questions. He would neither admit nor deny the truth of my accusations; and he begged me almost tearfully to say nothing about the matter until the meeting of the trustees to-morrow night. I understood from him that at, or before, the trustees' meeting he would have an explanation to make to me; I did not dream, Reiland, that he would make instead this"—he motioned to the figure on the couch, "this confession! This note," he nervously unfolded the paper again, "is drawn for twenty thousand dollars. I recall the circumstances of it clearly, Reiland; and I remember that it was authorized by the trustees for two thousand dollars, not twenty."
"But it has been canceled. See, he paid it! And these," the old professor pointed in protest to the ashes in the tray, "if these, too, were notes—raised, as you clearly accuse—he must have paid them. They were returned."
"Paid? Yes!" Dr. Joslyn's voice rang accusingly. "Paid from the university funds! The examination which I made personally of his books, unknown to Lawrie—for I could not confess at first to my old friend the suspicions I held against him—showed that he had methodically entered the notes at the amounts we authorized, and later entered them again at their face amounts as he paid them. The total discrepancy exceeds one hundred thousand dollars!"
"Hush!" Reiland was upon him. "Hush."
The morning was advancing. The halls resounded
