Miss Matilda.

"Oh, I don't suppose she's necessarily fatal. Still, as mistress of
Blanford--"

The Bishop's sister arose in her wrath. For the first time in her
existence she wanted to swear, but contented herself by remarking:

"That young woman leaves the palace to-day!"

"You forget your promise to me," he said.

"But is it possible, in the face of what you've told me, that you can
hold me to it?"

"Quite possible. In fact I mean to do so, and as soon as your righteous
indignation cools down a bit you'll realise that we've nothing
whatsoever to go on. What I've said could only be substantiated by
evidence requiring some time to obtain. If you accused her now, she'd
merely deny my statement, and her word's as good as mine, and probably
better, in his Lordship's estimation."

"But is there no proof near at hand?"

"Yes. She was married several years ago at a little church close by the
ruined abbey where I first met your party, and the fact is recorded in
the register."

"Then surely--"

"There's no crime in being married once," he objected.

"But what _can_ we do?" she asked.

"Keep quiet for a little while longer. Miss Arminster's certain to make
some slip, and then--"

"It seems very difficult to wait."

"Believe me," he replied, "it's the only way, and I shall rely on your
promise."

Saying which, he left her, partly because he had obtained all the
information he wished, and partly because he was certain that he espied
the well-known figure of the tramp hovering behind the bushes on the
opposite side of the lawn.

A few moments later he had his hand on that individual's collar, and was
demanding sternly what he meant by coming to Blanford against his
orders.

"'Cause I've somethin' of importance to tell yer," retorted that worthy.

"Well, out with it, quick!" said the journalist. "It's got to be pretty
important to excuse your disobedience."

"It is. The boss is going to bolt."

"Who? The Bishop?"

"That's it! Him and the lady."

"What lady?"

"The young 'un, I guess."

"What's all this stuff about?" demanded Marchmont.

"It ain't stuff, as you'll soon see," replied the tramp in an aggrieved
tone. "There was a yacht come into Dullhampton last night, a
nasty-lookin' boat and a quick steamer. The second mate and me, we got
to know each other up to the inn--he's a furriner, he is--a Don, more'n
likely. But he let on, havin' had some drink, as how he'd been sent
there with the yach