The Bishop's Amazement.

Auckland Star, Volume XXXII, Issue 163, 23 July 1901, Page 6

The Bishop's Amazement.

By DAVID CHRISTIE MURRAY.

AH Rigbta Steservsd.

CHAPTEE IX. (Continued)

When the Bishop of Stokestithe de-,-cribed Mr Decimus Bailey, and stated that he had occupied rooms next to his at the Hotel Continental, Tom Finch felt precisely like a man who Strikes a light in a dark chamber and, having thought himself in a strange j)lace, finds every object familiar. The stranger in the guise of v bishop—the bishop in plain clothes. He seemed to know what the answer would be before he asked the question: "I beg your pardon, sir, but did you happen by any chance to lose a suit of clothes there?"

"I did," the bishop responded. "But may I ask the drift of these inquiries?"

The query went to the winds, for Tom was tearing up and down the room with his hands in his hair, crying out that he was a fool —a fool! An ass! An idiot!

"Compose yourself, Mr Finch," said the Bishop. "I had my hands on the scamp last night!" Tom shouted. "I had him safe, and I was dolt enough to let him go." "Will you explain yourself, Mr Finch?" asked the bishop, sternly. "Yes, sir," said Tom, "I will. The person who introduced himself to you as Mr Decimus Bailey, and who introduced himself to me as Mr Arthur Staunton, has been masquerading in this neighbourhood as the Bishop of Stokestithe." "As the Bishop—of—Stokestithe?' his lordship gasped. "The Bishop of—"

"I found him in you clothes, sir," Tom said, mournfully. "I learned from one of the waiters at the hotel that he announced himself as the Bishop of Stokestithe. I walked him into my bedroom and demanded an explanation. He pretended to be a detective in the service of the French Government. He justified his disguise on the ground that he was in pursuit of a clever and dangerous criminal. And I let him go! I let him go!" "God bless my soul!" said the bishop. "I myself have had reason to suspect—but is it possible? He really seemed a most amiable and accomplished person. He displayed a soundness of view on the question of the Eastern position, and a knowledge of the controversy concerning it, which I thought surprising in a layman. My dear Mr Pinch, the man has certainly enjoyed more than the ordinary advantages of a gentleman." "That's my only comfort sir," said Tom. "He's a clever scoundrel. But there's another matter I want to speak about. I want to ask you if you remember the afternoon on which we parted in Portland Place?" "Distinctly," said Dr. Durgan. "A minute or two after you had left me," said Tom, "you shook hands with a man of a rather soldierly look, a military Johnny, sir, with a black moustache." "Yes," said the bishop. "What of him?" "I only wanted to know if you could guarantee the fellow, sir, that's all. I happened to hear your friend, Mr Decimus Bailey, ask him how he escaped from Portland." "God bless my soul!" said Dr. Durgan for the second time. "The person with whom I shook hands was introduced to me by an eminently respectable person, Mr Eoss, whom I have known for many years as the secretary of a most excellent mission in the East End. The gentleman was presented to me as Colonel Varndike. "Well, sir," said Tom, "not half an hour after he had shaken hands with you I heard Mr Decimus Bailey ask him how he got out of Portland, and the question turned him white, and seemed to unloosen all his joints."

"God bless my soul!" said Dr. Durgan, for the third time. "I must make it my business to warn Ross. I take the chair at the next meeting of the mission, and I shall seize that opportunity. Ross is a person of unimpeachable respectability." Tom told the whole story, and his lordship sat and wondered. "I begin to perceive," he said, at last, "that the exchange of raiment I thought accidental was purposed and designed."

"Why, yes," said Tom, drily. "I begin to perceive that too, sir."

"But, Mr Finch" cried the elder gentleman, "the audacity of the act! The—the—one might almost say the— a—sacrilege. Have these people no sense of propriety? Have they no fear of detectioif?"

Tom undertook to send down a supply of clean linen next morning, and to see that the prisoner had a Christian breakfast. He left him somewhat comforted.

As soon as ever the telegraph office was open Tom wired again, this time addressing- the representative of Her Britannic Majesty direct, and begging an immediate answer. A reply came in the afternoon, promising that action should be taken, and asking full particulars. Tom's money was by this time exhausted, but when the manager" of his hotel saw the telegram from ■the Embassy all his former confidence returned, and he paid the necessary expenses with much willingness, and undertook to see that the prisoner should want for nothing. And a second telegram from the Embassy to the local authorities, despatched through the Consul at Marseilles, resulted in the Bishop's release on bail. All this looked splendidly prosperous; but a little after five o'clock a solemn gentleman, with a red button in the Inpel of his coat, turned up with authority to convey the Bishop to Paris. The Monte Carlo people had communi-

Anther of " Aust Raotxl," "A Wasted OanVEte.

catod with the Bank of England respecting the arrest, and the Bank of England authorities had communicated" with Scotland Yard, and Scotland Yard had communicated with Paris; and here was Paris authority—suave, polished,, official, inexorable. Tom Pinch met this gentleman, and explained the circumstances of the case. "His lordship," said Tuna, would of course most willingly accompany you to Paris " "It is not a question of his willingness." the official responded. "Let that pass," said Tom. "It it were a question of his willingness he would be most happy to accompany you. But 1 have here a telegram from the British Embassy—please read it—by which I learn that a gentleman known to the Bishop of Stokestithe is starting to-night from Paris in order to identify him." "No communication to that effect has reached my department, to my knowledge," said the official. "I must return to Paris by the first train tomorrow, and the prisoner must ac-

company me." The Bishop understood Trench well enough when it was deliberately spoken, and he could make out what was being said by this magnificent gentleman.

111 have to return to Paris, Mr Finch," he said, "and perhaps the sooner I get there the better. Possibly a telegram addressed to the messenger from the Embassy at some point en route would suffice to arrest his progress, and we could meet him there,"

Tom translated this, and the official gentleman accepted it as if it had been a delicate dodge for escaping the appearance of opposition. "I have the honour," said Tom, "to address a gentleman. I am sure that I need not appeal to you to treat his lordship with delicacy." "His lordship," returned the official, "will be treated with proper consideration. He will travel second-class in the custody of an officer out of uniform."

"Indeed," said Tom. "he will do nothing of the sort. His lordship will travel first-class."

"At his own. cost, then," replied the official.

"At his own cost, assuredly," said Tom; "and in the meantime, if his lordship and yourself will do me the honour to dine with me, you may, perhaps, do your duty, and be comfortable at the safe time."

This invitation was accepted on consideration of the admitted presence of the official out of uniform. The Bishop of Stokestithe had never been more stately than he was at this particular dinner, and Tom. had never been so deferential to him as he was on this occasion, because he wanted to impress their guardian. So he said "my lord" -whenever he spoke to his late enemy, and was altogether so submissive and respectful that the Bishop thought quite well of him, and . regretted that a young man who could behave so nicely should ever have allowed himself to stand in opposition to a righteous authority. And what with the stateliness of the Bishop's manner and Tom's sprig-htliness in converse, and the deference he showed, the official person really did begin to have a glimmer of doubt as to the criminal character of his prey.

"Come," said Tom, when a bottle of very excellent Burgundy had twice made the tour of the table, "tell me, sir, Are we going to have any fun for oiir money? Is the forgery in which his lordship is supposed to be engaged a big affair? One really has to hope it is respectable at least."

"If it is any satisfaction for you to know it, sir," the official a-nswered, "it is colossal. The Bank of England has already taken up notes of the forged issue to the extent of half a million." "Half a million?" cried Tom with a gasp. He thought, of course, of pounds sterling. , "Half a million," replied the official gentleman, sipping at his wine. "The notes being printed on the bank's own paper make*? it impossible to detect the forgery except by the numbers." "At least, my lord," said Tom, "you have the satisfaction of knowing that this extraordinary adventure affords you an inside view of a most monumental crime. There can never have been anything like it in history."

Now Tom said this with perfect innocence of intent, but if he had searched all night he could have found nothing- so pleasing to the Bishop. It was the first reflection which had occurred to him without serving to light up the sordid nature of his mishap. After all, to get an inside view of a most monumental crime was something. He began to turn it over in his mind. He caught himself in the act of relating a part of the story to an astonished audience at some dinner-table of the future: "It happened to me on one occasion to be afforded an inside view of a most monumental act of criminality. My clothes were stolen at a Continental hotel by a bank forger, who probably hoped in that disguise to escape for a necessary moment the attentions of the police." And so on. There was a way of telling the story with effect, and without the suppression of any material circumstance. And yet? Well, on the whole, perhaps it would be as well to say nothing about it. But there was comfort in the reflection, and it soothed him all the evening. It soothed him even when the official gentleman, who by this time had grown quite courteous and cordial, apologised for locking him up in his bedroom. It soothed him through next day, and it comforted him on the railway journey northwards. And when, half-way between Marseilles and Paris, he met the messenger frfim the Embassy, and the official gentlemaiii with many apologies, released him, the thought soothed him still. An inside view of a most monumental crime! He preferred to take that aspect of the case. It was nice* to think of than the mosquitoes and the fleas, and the towel, and the big Suisse who had haled him by the shoulder, like a naughty boy caught orchard-robbing, through the streets of Monte Carlo.

"In a personage of Monseigneur the

Bishop's position and antecedents,"said the official, "it makes itself seen easily that these provincials have made a blunder the most deplorable. On my side, Mon seigneur the Bishop will find no apologies necessary." Dr. Durgaa shook hands with him with a royal condescension, and they all went on to Paris tog-ether. The Bishop's confidential man, who had been wired to from Monte Carlo, was in waiting1, and at the hotel his lordship was able to return to his customary

aspect. "Howeror mindful I may be of the difference which divides . us, Mr Finch," he said to Tom at parting', "I cannot refrain from thanking you for services rendered."

"Not at all, sir," said Tom. Now that his services were rendered he had "■one tacitly back to his old sentiments. "I did what I could, though 1 couldn't do much; and I would have done it, sir, for anybody." There was something1 like a declaration of war in this; and the Bishop accepted it as Tom meant it His lordship wont away to London, and left Ms adventures behind him. Uc looked on the history as finished, whilst he was on his way to its most remarkable episode. (To be continued.)