an Anarchist,' said Mrs Pansey,
who knew nothing about the man. 'Well, Mrs Mosk, I hope we've cheered
you up. I'll go now. Read this tract,' bestowing a grimy little
pamphlet, 'and don't see too much of Mr Pendle.'

'But he comforts me,' said poor Mrs Mosk; 'he reads beautiful.'

Mrs Pansey grunted. Bold as she was she did not like to speak quite
plainly to the woman, as too free speech might inculpate Gabriel and
bring the bishop to the rescue. Besides, Mrs Pansey had no evidence to
bring forward to prove that Gabriel was in love with Bell Mosk.
Therefore she said nothing, but, like the mariner's parrot, thought the
more. Shaking out her dark skirts she rose to go, with another grunt
full of unspoken suspicions.

'Good-day, Mrs Mosk,' said she, pausing at the door. 'When you are
low-spirited send for me to cheer you up.'

Mrs Mosk attempted a curtsey in bed, which was a failure owing to her
sitting position; but Mrs Pansey did not see the attempt, as she was
already half-way down the stairs, followed by Cargrim. The chaplain had
learned a trifle more about the mysterious Jentham and was quite
satisfied with his visit; but he was more puzzled than ever. A tramp, a
gipsy, an adventurer--what had such a creature in common with Bishop
Pendle? To Mr Cargrim's eye the affair of the visit began to assume the
proportions of a criminal case. But all the information he had gathered
proved nothing, so it only remained to wait for the bishop's return and
see what discoveries he could make in that direction. If Jentham's name
was in the cheque-book the chaplain would be satisfied that there was an
understanding between the pair; and then his next move would be to learn
what the understanding was. When he discovered that, he had no doubt but
that he would have Dr Pendle under his thumb, which would be a good
thing for Mr Cargrim and an unpleasant position for the bishop.

Mrs Pansey stalked down to the bar, and seeing Bell therein, silently
placed a little tract on the counter. No sooner had she left the house
than Bell snatched up the tract, and rushing to the door flung it after
the good lady.

'You need it more than I do,' she cried, and bounced into the house
again.

It was with a quiver of rage that Mrs Pansey turned to the chaplain. She
was almost past speech, but with some difficulty and much choking
managed to convey her feelings in two words.

'The creature!' gasped Mrs Pansey, and shook her skirts as if to rid
he