"Steve," said Samuel, with a flushing face, "it's a mighty sight easier to love a God a fellow hasn't seen than some men he has seen. Whatever the Almighty is He's square. Sylvester isn't."
"Sam," said Stephen gently, yet with a quiet firmness which made Samuel look at him curiously, "are you absolutely certain Sylvester was not square? Admitting that his methods were peculiar, annoying, without seeming reason or justification, are you sure they were not square?"
"I'm as confident he meant to deceive me as I sit here."
"But do you know it? Could you prove it in a court of law?"
Samuel hesitated. That was a question not to be answered quite so easily. "I believe I could."
"But you don't know you could?"
"Great Cæsar, Steve, I'm not omnipotent. I don't know I could. But——"
"Then there is a possibility—just a possibility—that you might be mistaken in your judgment of Sylvester."
"If there is it's so small that—"
"The smaller it is the more danger of losing sight of it. Yet, if it exists——"