The Bishop's Amazement.

Auckland Star, Volume XXXII, Issue 168, 29 July 1901, Page 6

The Bishop's Amazement.

By DAVID CHRISTIE MURRAY.

CHAPTER Xl.—Cont inueil

"I'm not going to give anybody away," said the Colonel, "if I can help it, but it stands to reason that I don't want to get any deeper in the mire. I shall look to both of you gentlemen to see to it that the information I am going to give you will be made useful to me in M>e proper quarter."

"That's your afftiir," said the inspector. "Yon know the conditions well enough. I'm bound to warn you."

"That's all right," returned the Colonel, ■'from un official point of view, but we're all human, and I look for some bit of a return. There's a man not very far from here"—he paused, and moistened his lips with his voiigue —"a gentleman, a member of the House of Lords, in fact, who is at this minute in danger of his life."

"Oh!" cried the'inspector. "This is serious, Eves; very serious. I should advise you to be careful as to how you put it." "i knew of it this afternoon," said the Colonel. "If 1 had got away I should have sent a message to the Yard by wire to-night. I'd planned out how to do it safely, and I should have done it. The gentleman in question happens to know a bit too much, and he tried, on his own hand, this afternoon, to effect a capture. He was nailed himself, and is locked up, waiting anything that may be done to him. Now, it might be said that I was in it, and 1 don't want to have anything of that sort on my mind. It doesn't stand to reason either that T want to swing for what another man may do in panic." "You're tedious, Eves," said the inspector. "Come to cues."

"Mind you," cried the Colonel, "I'm not betraying anybody. I don't want any credit for that sort of thing, for it isn't in my line. But I'm not going to have my neck stretched at my time of life for what another man may do behind my back. May do, I say, and mind you, there's some danger, or I shouldn't speak."

"Oh!" cried the inspector, "do come to cues."

"Very well," said the Colonel, moistening his dry lips once more. "Go to number —, street, off the York Road, Lambeth. You'll find the Bishop of Stokestithe there, locked up in a back room on the first floor."

"The Bishop of Stokestithe?" cried Tom.

"Yes," snid the Colonel, "the Bishop of Stokestithe. And I hope, gentlemen, that in consideration "

He spoke the rest to air, so far as Tom was concerned. In two minutes Tom and a police sergeant were in a hansom cab together. In six minutes more ; they were in the street and at the number indicated. The sergeant drew out a bunch of keys from his pocket, and they were in the house in no time. The sergeant flashed his lantern on the keyhole of the door upstairs, and made just as short work there. They entered a bare business room with a counter, some nests of drawers, a table, aud a chair or two.

"Anybody here?" said the sergeant, in a round and cheery voice.

"My lord," cried Tom, "where are you?" "Here! here!" cried the Bishop's voice in answer. The last door was ■ opened in a second or two, and the j Bishop stood in the lane of light thrown by the bull's-eye lantern. "Thank God we are in time," cried Tom; and, seizing the Bishop's hand,: he wrung it hard. His lordship re-| turned the pressure, with his heart' in the grip he gave. His peril hadj not been as terrible as he believed,: but he had thought himself lost, andj though he had borne to look upon his: fate with fortitude he was none the less relieved.

They nil went to Bow-street, and his lordship told his story.

"Well, my lord," said the inspector, "you owe your life, under Providence, to this young g-entleman. Sergeant, you've got a watch on that house?"

"Oli, good lord, yes, sir," returned the sergeant.

"Mr Finch," said the Bishop, "I am staying at the house of my sister, Mrs Itaimond. I shall be obliged to you if you will see me home."

"With pleasure, sir," said Tom, and there was another journey by hansom. Arrived at home, the Bishop made a toilette, and then sat down with his rescuer, and drew his story from him.

"You are facially disfigured, Mr Pinch," said his lordship.

"Oh," said Tom, "that's nothing. He's a very good man, the Colonel."

"I shall be obliged, Mr Finch;" said the Bishop, "if you will excuse me whilst I write a letter."

"Certainly," Tom answered, and sat wondering1 at his coolness. "I think, all things considered," he said to himself, "that he might perhaps be just a trifle more demonstrative. He doesn't gush much."

His lordship sat at an escritoire and wrote. For a few moments, except for the scratching of his pen and the ticking of a clock upon the mantelpiece, the room was silent.

"Be good enough to read that, Mr Finch, whilst I address this envelope," said the Bishop.

Tom took the proffered letter from his hand, and read: —

"My dear Amelia, —I shall be much obliged if, at your earliest convenience, you will return to town with Lucy. My determination will probably astonish you. But I have decided no longer to' oppose her desire for my recognition of . the engagement between herself and Mr Finch. Mr Finch, you may tell Lucy, has behaved in a matter which most seriously affected my own well-being with so admirable a sense of public duty, and so marked a courage, that

Author of "Aunt KAOH»," "A Wasted Ceimb," Etc

1 do not find it easy to express my opinion of his conduct. Pray notify me by telegram of your receipt of this and the time of your arrival. — Your affectionate brother, Hubert."

Tom stood silent with the paper rustling1 in his hand. The Bishop took it away from him, folded it, slipped it into its envelope, and rang the bell.

"Send that to the post at once," he said to the man who answered. Then he turned on Tom, and held his hand towards him. "Once for all, Mr Finch," he said, "I offer you ray heartfelt thanks. And I—l wish to add that 1 am not altogether without influence. I shall esteem it a pleasure, wherever that influence can be fittingly exerted, to use it in your behalf."

"1 will do my best on my side, sir," said Tom, who was not quite himself, in face of this prodigious alteration in the aspect of his own affairs.

"1 urn afraid," said the Bishop, "that you will find that contusion rather painful, Mi Finch."

"Oh, that's nothing," Tom answered. "It shows, but it looks a good deal more than it means. It never pays to try to paint a fellow's frontispiece in fight, you know, sir. If I'd wasted my time in that way, the Colonel would haw laid me out."

"Indeed!" aai'j.iis lordship. "Are you —a—experienced in that sort of encounter, Mr Finch?"

"Pretty well, sir," said Tom, with a smile, which his sidelong face made so grotesque that the Bishop positively laughed.

"It would be a curious affectation on my part," he said, "to profess regret at your proficiency," but —"

"Oh, amongst friends, and in fun, sir," cried Tom, "there's no better sport."

"Well, well," said the Bishop. "Can you make it convenient to dine here on Thursday next? Very good. Good night now, my dear fellow, and remember that you have a right to count upon me."

So what happier young man than Tom Finch walked home that night under the gas and the stars in all broad London? And when Thursday came, who bo horrified as Tom to find the Colonel's impression on his cheek still visible, and his own manly visage looking like a face on a gargoyle? And who so wretchedly embarrassed as Tom Finch when Mrs Justice Kaimond fell upon his neck and publicly wept upon him, as the preserver of her dear, denr bub—bubbrother's life? And who again so shamefacedly happy as the same Tom Finch when Lucy wept over him in private with her arms about his neck, and, in spite of all-pooh-poohings, vowed he was a hero?

Our friend James had mounted guard over the Bishop as long as he had thought it advisable, and then he had gone tranquilly away to an interview with Mr lloss.

"Variidike's gone," he said. "I'm going. You'd best go a.s well. I've thought it over, ray dear fellow, and in my solitude at that little place of yours I have pencilled a note to a friend. His lordship, I should tell you, followed me in a cab. "When, in a day or two, an important person like the Bishop ot Stokestithe happens to be missed, the man who drove him will recall the circumstances and remember the house. Your name is on the door. Look at the facts, my dear, good sir, and make up your mind to the inevitable."

"What's the note you're talking of?" Ross asked him, with a'groan.

"A little missive to a friend of mine," James answered, "apprising him of the Bishop's present address,' and requesting him to communicate it to those whom it may concern."

"Mail," said Mr Eoss, "it's a sad check in a respectable career."

"Mr Ross," James answered, seriously, "it is the fortune .of war, and every man must face his luck. It is only a war of insects after all, but we owe a little courage to ourselves. We are rascals, you and I, Mr Ross, and ■we really cannot expect the honest folks to like us."

"Man!" cried Mr Ross, "will ye deave me wi' your silly havers? I'm a known man, and I've uo means of disguise or way of flight. I'm lost! I'm lost!" "Well, sir," returned James, "we have been comrades, and if you see* fit we will be comrades still. If you choose to accept my guidance, I will do my best to see you through. You may think the proposition I have to make derogatory to your dignity, but I do not meian it to be so in effect."

"Oh!" saW Mr Ross, "I'm not thenkin' o 'my dignity."

"Then, sir," continued James, "you embolden me. You are without exception the most respectable man I , know. As a confidential servant you would be invaluable to any person in my line of life. If you like to pass as my valet and companion, I will have you safe within four and twenty hours." "That's an idea!" said Koss. "It's an idea!" "Shake hands on it," said James. "You attached and faithful servitor! My grandfather's humible but honoured friend. For the moment Fortune frowns, but you and I will face her frown together." In effect the late firm of Ross, Vandike and Mortimer was there and then dissolved, and the new firm of Mortimer' and Ross was started. Its adventures await another record. Lucy and Tom are, in this present year, happily married, and Tom is beginning to prosper in a small way at the Bar. [THE END.]