"It's the only way," she replied. "Give him string enough, and see the cat's-cradle he'll weave out of it."
"Now," said the journalist cheerfully to the Bishop, "perhaps you'll deny that you spent a month or six weeks in the United States this spring?"
"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?"
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.
"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."
The Bishop nodded mournfully. So far the facts were against him, and his interlocutor's face shone with a gleam of triumph.
"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:
"But it was," she insisted. "He went to get the coffee for me."
"Were you in the station, too?" demanded his Lordship.
"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--"
"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."