t, 'but my
wife thinks that we had better plead guilty and let it go. That kind
of thing doesn't interest me so much as it does her.'

"'After all,' I answered, by way of consolation, 'if you think it's
like to do you any harm, it doesn't need to get out. I shall respect
your confidence.'

"'Too late!' his wife exclaimed. 'The facts have been cabled to
America.'

"I was writing letters in my room, next day, when Harry interrupted me
with a hurried entrance. He locked the door inside, and in a kind of
playful silence drew from under his rain-coat, and deposited on my
table, a human skull.

"'The Bishop of St. Clare,' he whispered, in that curious dialect
which I shall not try to imitate.

"'He isn't looking very well,' I said, not knowing what he meant.

"'This is the Bishop's head--the Bishop of St. Clare,' Harry whispered
again. 'He was one of our ancestors--by Jove!'

"'Is that all that was the matter with him?' I asked.

"'No; his epitaph says that he died of a fever in 1712.'

"'How did you get hold of his head?' I asked. 'Win it in a raffle?'

"'I bribed the old verger in the crypt of St. Mary's. Offered him two
sovereigns to lift the stone lid and let me look in. He said he
couldn't do that, but discreetly withdrew when I put the money in his
hand. It was up to me, don't you know, and here is the Bishop's
head.'

"'Going to have him photographed in a group of the family?' I asked.

"'No, but you see Materna paid two pounds for a chunk off a tombstone,
and I thought I would give her a souvenir worth having,' said he, and
blushed for the first time since our interview had begun. 'This is
unique.'

"'And you didn't think the Bishop would miss it?' I suggested.

"'Not seriously,' he answered. 'I guess it's a fool thing to have
done, but I thought that I could have some fun with the Bishop's head.
Mother is going to round up all the Delances at Christmas for a big
dinner--uncles, aunts, and cousins, you know--a celebration of our
genealogical discoveries with a great family tree in the center of the
table. The history of the Delances will be read, and I thought that I
would spring a surprise--tell them that I had invited our old
ancestor, Sir Robert Delance, Bishop of St. Clare; that, contrary to
my hope, he had accepted, and that I would presently introduce him. In
due time I would produce the head and read from his life and writings,
which I bought in a London book-stall. Finally, I thought that I w