"Father, I did not know of that until recently."
"What, do you mean to say that all that terrible row occurred, and that it's out all over the parish, and you, the chief official of the Club at the time, did not know of it?"
"Father," declared Frank, in trembling tones, "I know it all looks bad, all the appearances are against me, I have only my word and character to stand by me."
"It is your character that has stood by you till now, sir. Were you not Mulvy, I had acted differently. But it is because you are Mulvy that I have trusted, until the Club and its director are discredited. But what's the matter, boy?"
For of a sudden, Frank had turned white. He swayed a moment, but Father Boone caught him in his arms, laid him gently on the floor. It took but a dash of cold water to fully restore him, and for a moment he just stared into the face of the priest. Then Father Boone noticed how his color rushed back and his jaws set and he realized that the boy was suffering keen mental anguish. It came to him that there was something most unusual and extraordinary about the whole thing.
After a bit Frank said in a voice choked with emotion, "I know you have suffered, Father, and that has hurt me." He could say no more but after a little, he began again. "At first, I did not know anything about the matter, and when I did know, I could not speak. I wish I could clear the matter up, but I cannot do so honorably, and I know you don't want me to do it dishonorably."
The priest patted him on the back and told him to do what was right and not to think of consequences. "And as you consider silence the right thing now, I do not wish you to do otherwise than as you are doing."
"Thank you, Father," replied Frank. "But please—I am true to you."
"Yes, I know," answered the priest, "but it's all a mystery, nevertheless, and it must be solved, and," he added vigorously, "it shall be solved."
Frank went below. The priest closed the door, and fell into a brown study. "What am I to do?" he reflected. "This thing must be nailed. But how?"