"He's got to appear at the inquest, if that's what you mean, sir; but this subp[oe]na"--Slade looked round anxiously, then approached his mouth to the missionary's ear, "why shouldn't it be a warrant?"
Brand turned a shade paler, and fixed a keen eye on Slade, whose meaning he at once seized.
"Do you know any reason why it should be a warrant?" he asked sharply.
"I have my own idea, sir."
"What is your idea?"
Slade took time to consider, and pulled his red moustache. "See here, Mr. Brand," he said softly, "do you want disgrace to fall on that chapel of yours?"
"Why, no. I would do anything to avert that."
"Well then, sir, don't ask me questions about your parson."
The missionary bent his shaggy brows on the man, and stroked his beard. "Do you suspect Mr. Johnson?"
"Yes, I do; but nobody else does, except--yourself."