n stood beggared of further speech. His mind was too plain and
sane for immediate understanding of such a type as Oswald Melvin. But
the bushranger hit off that young man's character in half-a-dozen
trenchant phrases.

"He must be let out, and it may save his mother's life; but if he were
mine," exclaimed the Bishop, "I would rather he had done the other deed!
But what about you?" he added, suddenly, his eyes resting on his
sardonic visitor, who had disguised himself far less than his horse.
"It will mean giving yourself up."

"No. You know me. You can spread what I've told you."

The Bishop shifted uneasily on his hearth-rug.

"I may not see my way to that," said he. "Besides, you must have run a
lot of risks to do this good action; how do you know you haven't been
recognized already? I should have known you anywhere."

"But you have undertaken not to raise an alarm, my lord."

"I shall not break my promise."

There was a grim regret in the Bishop's voice. Stingaree thought he
understood it.

"Thank you," he said.

"Don't thank me, pray!" Dr. Methuen could be quite testy on occasion. "I
have other duties than to you, you know, and I only answer for my
actions during the actual period of our interview. There are many things
I should like to say to you, my brother," a gentler voice went on, "but
this is hardly the time for me to say them. But there is one question I
should like to ask you for the peace of both our souls, and for the
maintenance of my own belief in human nature." He threw up an episcopal
hand dramatically. "If you earnestly and honestly wished to save this
poor lady's life, and there were no other way, would you then be man
enough to give yourself up--to give your liberty for her life?"

Stingaree took time to think. His eyes were brightly fixed upon the
Bishop's. Yet they saw a little bedroom just as plain, an English lady
standing by the empty bed, and at its foot a portrait of himself armed
to the teeth.

"For hers?" said he. "Yes, like a shot!"

"I'm thankful to hear it," replied the Bishop, with most fervent relief.
"I only wish you could have the opportunity. But now you never will. My
brother, if you look round, you will see why!"

Stingaree looked round without a word. In the Bishop's eyes at the last
instant he had learned what to expect. A firing-party of four
stocking-soled constables were drawn across the opened French windows,
their levelled rifles poking through.

The bushr