William lifted his hands, then joined them on his breast. He shook now as with palsy. David, watching him, looked away to hide his tears. David was young, the wreck of William Koehler seemed a unique, horrible case.
Presently William answered in a low voice.
"God told me to be quiet. I prayed and prayed and God told me to be quiet. I am quiet now."
"But, William, you must tell us what you can remember. It will be for your good."
William opened his arms in a wild gesture, then clasped his hands again.
"A voice told me to forget it. I prayed till I heard a voice telling me to be quiet. You are tempting me! You are tempting me to disobey God. God said to be quiet about it!" He covered his face with his hands and began to weep aloud in a terrible way.
David crossed the little space between them and sat down beside him.
"You didn't take the communion set," he said. "We know you didn't take it."
William Koehler drew his hands away from his eyes and looked round at the young face beside him. Some tone of the voice startled him.
"Who are you?" he asked in astonishment. As he put the question he moved slowly and cautiously away, as though he planned to flee. "What do you mean to do with me?"