"Ha, ha, ha!" chuckled the prelate. "That sounds like one of your father's remarks."
"Speaking of Father," Bob glanced at his watch, "I'm expecting him up from town on this next train. I hope nothing detains him."
"I hope not," said the churchman earnestly. "I have been looking forward to seeing my dear old friend and—er—I wanted him to be present in case this detective reports anything that seems—er—important."
"Exactly," agreed the young man.
At this moment Merle entered, looking pale and anxious, and, bowing respectfully to the bishop, he went close to Baxter and said something in a low tone.
"Oh! All right. I'll see him," nodded Bob. Then to Betty and his lordship: "If you'll excuse me, I—er—there's a little matter I must attend to." And he hurried off, followed by Horatio.
"Oh, Mr. Merle! May I speak to you a moment?" called the bishop.
Horatio turned and a faint flush spread over the ashen gray of his thin face.
"Yes, your lordship."
Bunchester's eyes rested on the curate in kindly solicitude, then with a ruddy smile he turned to Betty.