"Rather," said Bob. "He walks very queerly. I could tell him a mile off."
"Very well, then," Bradstock continued, "when he goes, you will follow him at a distance. He must not be lost sight of."
"I much underrate our young friend's enterprise if he loses him," said the bishop. "There are occasions when exceeding the legal limit becomes a duty, Bob."
"Rather," said Bob. "Oh, I'll do it."
They calculated that the Times would reach Pen about noon, as they believed she must be within twenty miles of Spilsborough. Bob accordingly arranged to take up his watch at the post-office before one o'clock.
"And perhaps to-morrow night the mystery will be solved," said the bishop. "It is really remarkable. I am not at all able to follow Penelope's mind."
Bob explained it to him.
"They ragged her," he said,—by "they" meaning Titania and others,—"and she loves peace and hates showing off, and she's as obstinate as a pig. And grandmother said she was to be married in Westminster Abbey by a bishop, and that put her back up. Oh, Pen's easy to understand, I think."
"You have no idea whom she has really married?" asked the bishop.
"Not much," said Bob. "I give it up. I've thought it was all of 'em, and every one has done or said something that could be taken both ways. I was sure it was Goby, and then I was certain it was Bramber, and then I fairly knew it was Rivaulx, and I could have sworn it was Plant. And I'm very much worried by what occurred at Oxford. This new Bunting was very surprising."