“‘I suppose you’ve seen him?’ he asked, nervously.
“‘Whom?’
“‘Why, you know a mysterious stranger has been looking for me and––by Jove!––I’m scared stiff. He’s an Englishman.’
“‘What of that?’
“‘Let me show you,’ said Harry.
“He took a key from his pocket, unlocked a door, and fetched the familiar skull of the Bishop of St. Clare and put it on the table before me.
“‘It’s that damn Bishop’s head,’ he whispered. ‘It has come back––would you believe it?––picked up by a fisherman on the Irish coast and returned to the express office in London. All the old directions were quite legible on the box. “To Harry Delance, SS. Lusitania. If not found, forward to Pointview, Conn., U.S.A., charges collect!” So it came on. I received a notice and went down and got it out of bond and paid three pounds, and here it is.’
“‘It looks as if the Bishop was out for revenge,’ I said, with a laugh.