“Move this girl Gertrude to listen behind the arras, when as they talk together,” suggested the Bishop. “Make her promises—of anything she valueth, a fine horse, a velvet gown, a rich husband—whatever shall be most like to catch her.”
Mr Bastian smiled grimly, as he began to see the plot develop.
“’Tis an easy matter to beguile a woman,” said the Bishop, who, being very ignorant of women, believed what he said: “bait but your trap with something fine enough, and they shall walk in by shoals like herrings. Saving these few obstinate simpletons such as Alice Benden, that you can do nought with, they be light enough fish to catch. Catch Gertrude, Brother.”
Chapter Twenty Five.
Before Dick of Dover.
“Perkins!” said a rather pompous voice.
Perkins was the Cathedral bell-ringer, and the gaoler of Alice Benden. He obeyed the summons of the pompous voice with obsequious celerity, for it belonged to no less a person than the Lord Bishop of Dover. His Lordship, having caught sight of the bell-ringer as he crossed the precincts, had called him, and Perkins came up, his hat in one hand, and pulling his forelock with the other.
“I desire to know, Perkins,” said the Bishop, “if that man that is your prisoner’s brother hath yet been arrested, as I bade?”