'And you need not be told,' said George. 'But can you let me and my friend Mr. Hilton--'
'Mr. Hilton?' gasped Sam, as Kelly put his hand out to Wogan.
'I must present you to Mr. Hilton,' George said, and Wogan bowed and grinned.
'I was about to entreat you, Mr. Wesley, while you are playing the sexton, to permit me and Mr. Hilton the convenience of a few moments of privacy in your chamber.'
'With all my heart,' said the puzzled Sam, hospitably opening a cupboard in his bookcase, whence he lugged out glasses and a bottle of Florence. Then he put list shoes over his own, and stole forth on his errand like a clerical cat.
All this while Wogan had said not one word to Kelly, nor Kelly to Wogan.
Mr. Wogan had sat down to sample the bottle, and Kelly stared at him.
'How did you make your way in here?' he asked at length.
'Old Jeffrey,' said Wogan airily. 'I drink Old Jeffrey's health, wherever he is.'
'I believe you are the devil himself. That password is known to no mortal but Mr. Wesley and me. The Bishop does not know it. His servants never see me come or go--only Sam. Whence got you the word?'