sh spies, and we wish to hand them
over!" shouted the mate in return.

"This isn't an American ship," came the reply.

"Yes, it is," howled Marchmont; "we know better! You belong to the 'Pink
Star' line."

The chief officer conferred with the captain.

"It's Mason and Slidell the other way round," he said. "I wouldn't
touch 'em with a ten-foot pole. Besides--" and here he seized the
megaphone from his subordinate and yelled through it:

"You infernal idiots! don't you know the war with Spain is over? We've
declared a truce!"

"I don't believe it," cried Marchmont, shaking his fist at the great
steamship in a paroxysm of disappointed rage. "It's only an excuse to
shirk your duty! We've brought them out to you, and you've got to take
them! I'll report you to the government! I'll--!"

The sharp ring of the engine-room bell from the liner's bridge was the
only reply vouchsafed him, and a moment later the big ship forged ahead,
her captain very red in the face and swearing like a trooper: for the
most precious thing on board a racer of that class is time, and the
"Homing Pigeon" had been wasting it.

The Bishop, noting the sheepish faces of the mate and his two fellow
conspirators, and the lowering glances of the crew, turned to Miss
Arminster, saying:

"We'd better return to the cabin, my dear. I think there's going to be
trouble."

The little actress followed his Lordship's gaze, and descended without a
word of protest. She thought so, too.

They had hardly entered the saloon, when there came a respectful knock
at the door, and an elderly seaman entered, ducking his head.

"Well, my good man," said his Lordship, "what can I do for you?"

"Meanin' no disrespect, sir, be you really the Bishop of Blanford?"

"Certainly I am," that gentleman replied. "You see my dress, and," as a
happy thought struck him, "here's one of my cards to prove my identity."
And he handed the sailor a bit of pasteboard with his title engraved
thereon.

"And the lady?" asked the seaman.

"The lady is no more connected with this absurd charge than I am,"
pursued the Bishop. "You've been grievously misled by your mate and
these two strangers. But if you'll take us safe to the nearest port,
I'll speak a word in your favour to your master, Lord Downton, who's an
intimate friend of mine. Can you read?"

"Yes, your honour."

"Then here's a letter from his Lordship, which I fortunately have by me,
requesting me to join his yacht. Read