nt, why did she haunt him? But again, if he was guilty, why did
she avoid him? To gain an answer to this riddle, Cargrim attempted when
possible to seize the elusive phantom of Mother Jael, but three or four
times she managed to vanish in her witch-like way. At length one day
when she was watching the bishop talking to the dean at the northern
door of the cathedral, Cargrim came softly behind her and seized her
arm. Mother Jael turned with a squeak like a trapped rabbit.

'Why do you watch the bishop?' asked Cargrim, sharply.

'Bless ye, lovey, I don't watch 'im,' whined Mother Jael, cringing.

'Nonsense, I've seen you look at him several times.'

'There ain't no harm in that, my lamb. They do say as a cat kin look at
a queen; and why not a pore gipsy at a noble bishop? I say, dearie,' she
added, in a hoarse whisper, 'what's his first name?'

'The bishop's first name? George. Why do you want to know?'

'George!' pondered Mother Jael, taking no notice of the question, 'I
allays though' the sojir was George!'

'He is George too, called after his father. Answer me! Why do you want
to know the bishop's name? and why do you watch him?'

'Ah, my noble Gorgio, that's tellings!'

'No doubt, so just tell it to me.'

'Lord, lovey! the likes of you don't want to know what the likes of me
thinks.'

Cargrim lost his temper at these evasions. 'You are a bad character,
Mother Jael. I shall warn the police about you.'

'Oh, tiny Jesius, hear him! I ain't done nothing wrong. I'm a pore old
gipsy; strike me dead if I ain't.'

'If you tell me something,' said Cargrim, changing his tactics, 'you
shall have this,' and he produced a coin.

Mother Jael eyed the bright half-sovereign he held between finger and
thumb, and her old eyes glistened. 'Yes, dearie, yes! What is it?'

'Tell me the truth about the murder,' whispered Cargrim, with a glance
in the direction of the bishop.

Mother Jael gave a shrill screech, grabbed the half-sovereign, and
shuffled away so rapidly that she was round the corner before Cargrim
could recover from his surprise. At once he followed, but in spite of
all his search he could not find the old hag. Yet she had her eye on
him.

'George! and George!' said Mother Jael, who was watching him from an odd
angle of the wall into which she had squeezed herself, 'I wonder which
of 'em did it?'

CHAPTER XXI

MRS PANSEY'S FESTIVAL

Once a year the archdeacon's widow discharged her social obliga