“What luck?” asked the Chief next day, when he reported at headquarters. Marowitz shook his head.
“They must be mistaken. He is not in the Jewish quarter.”
The Chief frowned. Then Marowitz, with heightened colour, said:
“I want to resign. I—I don’t think I’m cut out for a good detective.”
“H’m!” said the Chief. “I guess you’re right.”
UNCONVERTED
The Reverend Thomas Gillespie (it may have been William—I am not sure of his first name) noticed a tall old man with fierce brown eyes standing in the front of the crowd. Then a stone struck the Reverend Gillespie in the face. The crowd pressed in upon him, and it would have gone ill with the preacher if the tall, brown-eyed man had not turned upon the crowd and, in a voice that drowned every other sound, cried:
“Touch him not! Stand back!”
The crowd hesitated and halted. The tall man had turned his back upon the Reverend Gillespie, and now stood facing the rough-looking group.
“Touch him not!” he repeated. “He is an honest man. He means us no harm. He is but acting according to his lights. He is only mistaken. Whoever throws another stone is an outcast. ‘Before me,’ said the Lord, ‘there is no difference between Jew and Gentile; he that accomplishes good will I reward accordingly.’ Friends, go your way!”