aid Friend Othniel. "I'd know him among a
thousand."

For a moment Marchmont said nothing as he encountered the full force of
the cruel disillusion, and then with painstaking precision he turned and
kicked the tramp up the entire flight of cabin stairs.

"Now," remarked the Bishop, "perhaps you'll allow us to go free."

"No!" cried the journalist, slamming the door. "I've wasted heaps of
cash and no end of time over this wild-goose-chase, but the _Daily
Leader_ shall have its scoop yet! If you aren't conspirators, I'll make
you so, in spite of yourselves! You _shall_ be Spanish spies!"

CHAPTER V.

IN WHICH THE BISHOP EATS JAM TART, AND MISS MATILDA HUMBLE-PIE.

"Now," remarked the Bishop to Miss Arminster, as Marchmont quitted the
cabin after this last astounding remark, "Now I'm certain he's mad."

"Oh, no," replied the lady, "it's merely journalistic enterprise. I
don't blame him for being disappointed. It must be hard to find that
we're not conspirators, after all."

"But why should he wish to make us so?"

"You dear stupid old Joe!" she exclaimed. "You haven't the remotest
inkling of what American journalism means. It's sensation first, last,
and altogether. Think of a bishop, and an English bishop at that, posing
as an agent of the Spanish secret service, and eloping with an actress
on somebody else's yacht. Why, I can shut my eyes and see the
headlines. They're almost certain to print them in red ink. There's fame
for you!"

"But why should he wish to print it if it's not the truth?"

"Truth! My dear Bishop, who said anything about truth? We were speaking
of news, and--journalistic enterprise."

At this moment the door again burst open, and Marchmont flung into the
cabin.

"There!" he said, with a tone of triumph, "we've sighted an American
steamer down channel, and have hoisted the Spanish flag. We're pursuing
her, and very presently we shall be captured, and you'll be
surrendered."

"I suppose," began the Bishop, "that, to a man so devoid of moral
consciousness as you appear to be, no arguments of mine--"

"Don't waste your breath," broke in Miss Arminster. "They wouldn't."

"Why, I'm sorry to cause you any inconvenience," said the journalist
amiably, "but you see, my paper's simply panting for sensation, and when
they hear about this little racket they'll sell extras till they can't
see straight."

"And what, may I ask, will happen when the truth comes out?" demanded
his Lordship