“You mustn’t talk like that here,” he said, roughly, and in a kind of hurry, “that has nothing to do with us.”

Evan opened his great, blue eyes; “God,” he began.

“Be quiet,” said the magistrate, angrily, “it is most undesirable that things of that sort should be spoken about—­a—­in public, and in an ordinary Court of Justice.  Religion is—­a—­too personal a matter to be mentioned in such a place.”

“Is it?” answered the Highlander, “then what did those policemen swear by just now?”

“That is no parallel,” answered Vane, rather irritably; “of course there is a form of oath—­to be taken reverently—­ reverently, and there’s an end of it.  But to talk in a public place about one’s most sacred and private sentiments—­well, I call it bad taste. (Slight applause.) I call it irreverent.  I call it irreverent, and I’m not specially orthodox either.”

“I see you are not,” said Evan, “but I am.”

“We are wondering from the point,” said the police magistrate, pulling himself together.

“May I ask why you smashed this worthy citizen’s window?”

Evan turned a little pale at the mere memory, but he answered with the same cold and deadly literalism that he showed throughout.

“Because he blasphemed Our Lady.”

“I tell you once and for all,” cried Mr. Cumberland Vane, rapping his knuckles angrily on the table, “I tell you, once and for all, my man, that I will not have you turning on any religious rant or cant here.  Don’t imagine that it will impress me.  The most religious people are not those who talk about it. (Applause.) You answer the questions and do nothing else.”

“I did nothing else,” said Evan, with a slight smile.

“Eh,” cried Vane, glaring through his eye-glass.

“You asked me why I broke his window,” said MacIan, with a face of wood.  “I answered, ‘Because he blasphemed Our Lady.’  I had no other reason.  So I have no other answer.”  Vane continued to gaze at him with a sternness not habitual to him.

“You are not going the right way to work, Sir,” he said, with severity.  “You are not going the right way to work to—­a—­have your case treated with special consideration.  If you had simply expressed regret for what you had done, I should have been strongly inclined to dismiss the matter as an outbreak of temper.  Even now, if you say that you are sorry I shall only——­”

“But I am not in the least sorry,” said Evan, “I am very pleased.”

“I really believe you are insane,” said the stipendiary, indignantly, for he had really been doing his best as a good-natured man, to compose the dispute.  “What conceivable right have you to break other people’s windows because their opinions do not agree with yours?  This man only gave expression to his sincere belief.”

“So did I,” said the Highlander.

“And who are you?” exploded Vane.  “Are your views necessarily the right ones?  Are you necessarily in possession of the truth?”