"But, Father, this looks like the impossible. It's unbelievable that these people could be mistaken about someone they had trailed from Europe. They were so sure about it that they killed that officer."
"Ruth Atheson is my sister's daughter, Mr. Saunders," was the only answer vouchsafed by the priest. He boarded the train, followed by his companions.
Saunders sat in puzzled silence till the junction point was reached. Then the three alighted, and Father Murray turned to the detective.
"Mr. Saunders, I am going to ask a favor of you. I do not know how long I may be away, and my parish is unattended. The Bishop is here to-day on his Confirmation tour, and I am going to take Mr. Griffin with me and call on him. Will you remain here in charge of our effects?"
"Sure, Father. Go on." He glanced toward the bulletin board. "The Limited is late, and you have more than an hour yet. I'll telegraph for sleeper reservations."
Father Murray and Mark started out for the rectory. Very little was said on the way. The priest was sad and downcast, Mark scarcely less so.
"I almost fear to meet the Bishop, Mark," Father Murray remarked, as they approached the rectory, "after that shock the other day; but I suppose it has to be done."
The Bishop was alone in his room and sent for them to come up. There was a trace of deep sorrow in his attitude toward the priest, joined to surprise at the visit. To Mark he was most cordial.
"My Lord," the priest began, "circumstances compel me to go to Washington for a few days, perhaps longer. My parish is unattended. The matter which calls me is urgent. Could you grant me leave of absence, and send someone to take my place?"
The Bishop glanced at Mark before he answered. Mark met his gaze with a smile that was full of reassurance. The Bishop seemed to catch the message, for he at once granted Father Murray's request.