d his Lordship.

"Just so. And during that time you were supposed to be in Scotland
taking a rest-cure?"

"I admit that such is the case. But how you obtained your information--"

"I got it from your sister--about the rest-cure, I mean."

"Did you tell her--er--that I was--er--in the United States?"

"Yes," replied the journalist.

His Lordship heaved a deep sigh. The future, he thought, held worse
things for him than arrest and deportation.

"How did you know that I was in the United States and Canada?" he
demanded.

"I saw you."

"Where?"

"At a little station on the borders of the two countries. You spent the
night wrapped up in a blanket, and slept under the bar."

"You never--!" broke in Miss Arminster.

The Bishop nodded mournfully. So far the facts were against him, and his
interlocutor's face shone with a gleam of triumph.

"But in that case--" exclaimed Violet.

"Excuse me, I'll tell the story," said Marchmont, and continued the
narration.

"You were roused about five in the morning by a man breaking into the
room."

"So I was," admitted the Bishop. "How did you know?"

"I was asleep in the room overhead, and gave the alarm."

"That's perfectly correct," acquiesced his Lordship. "I remember the
tones of your voice. It's most astounding."

"And the man who broke into the bar," continued Violet, "was your son."

It was now Marchmont's turn to be astonished.

"What!" he cried, while the Bishop ejaculated:

"Impossible!"

"But it was," she insisted. "He went to get the coffee for me."

"Were you in the station, too?" demanded his Lordship.

"No, I was out in a potato-patch."

"You a member of that party of political criminals who jumped off the
train!" cried the Bishop. "I heard all about it the next morning, but I
can't believe--"

"It's quite true," she assured him.

"But it's too remarkable," he went on. "I'd gone to America on purpose
to find my son, of whom I'd heard nothing for a year. And you say he was
there, and--er--touched me?"

"Why, didn't you see him in Montreal?" asked Marchmont.

"I sailed next day for England. I was on my way to the steamer when the
accident occurred which detained me overnight."

"Why then did you conceal the purpose of your trip?" demanded his
tormentor.

"My sister was much opposed to my seeking my son," said his Lordship,
colouring furiously. "And--I--in short, I had reasons."

The journalist laughed.

"The story's clever," he said.