he dignity of an episcopal prince, they were better than nothing,
and as he was travelling incognito it did not much matter. So he
cheerfully accepted, and going out on the platform took a seat on the
narrow wooden bench that ran along the front of the station, and lighted
a cigar to while away the time till the preparations for his retirement
were completed.

It was pitch-dark outside, and the presence of three glimmering points
of light were the only indication of any other occupants of the bench.
But he rightly conjectured that the smokers were the policemen and the
journalist of whom he had heard, and, having nothing better to do, he
entered into conversation with them.

"Oh, yes," said Marchmont, for it was none other, "we've got a big job
on hand to-night, sir, if we pull it off."

"Is it uncertain, then?" asked the Bishop.

"Well, of course we don't know which way they're coming. There was a
sensational escape of a lot of Spanish spies from New York this noon.
When I left we only knew they'd gone North. Since then they've been
heard of near the Hudson River. Of course it's practically certain
they'll make for Montreal, as it's the nearest point at which they have
a consul, and my knowledge of human nature leads me to think they'll
take the most indirect route; so I came on here by the first train, and
if we can catch them when the Express comes through to-night, it'll be a
great scoop, and certain promotion for me."

"Who compose the party?" asked his Lordship.

"The whole thing seems to be rather mysterious," said the journalist.
"There's a woman conspirator in it, and one or two men, but the identity
of the leader, the man who planned the rescue and had the unparalleled
audacity to represent himself as one of our reporters, is quite unknown
to the police."

"But you?" said the Bishop.

"Oh, I," replied Marchmont, "of course I could hazard a guess as to his
identity." And putting his hand before his mouth, so that his two
companions should not hear his words, he added, with a tone of triumph
in his voice: "There's not the remotest doubt in my mind that the young
man who ran off with the Black Maria was none other than the Secretary
of the Spanish Legation."

"Ah," said his Lordship, who was getting bored, "very interesting, I'm
sure. I think I'll turn in now. Good-night." And a few minutes later he
was safely ensconced under the bar and in the land of dreams, where Miss
Matilda and a prison-van figure