"It is but a rapier that I am going to clean of rust spots that are gathering on its blade." "Is it yours, Father?
Let me see it." He held out his hand.
"No, not mine." Father Beret seemed not to notice Farnsworth's desire to handle the weapon, and the young man, instead of repeating his words, reached farther, nearly grasping the scabbard.
"I cannot let you take it, my son," said Father Beret "You have its mate, that should satisfy you." "No, Colonel Hamilton took it," Farnsworth quickly replied.

"If I could I would gladly return it to its owner.

I am not a thief, Father, and I am ashamed of--of--what I did when I was drunk." The priest looked sharply into Farnsworth's eyes and read there something that reassured him.

His long experience had rendered him adept at taking a man's value at a glance.

He slightly lifted his face and said: "Ah, but the poor little girl! why do you persecute her?
She really does not deserve it.