"Oh! ah!" he said at last. "There be a Mrs. Bramwell at the Moat House."
"Indeed," said the bishop. "Perhaps that may be the lady. At the Moat House! Do you know Mr. Bramwell?"
"I've seen un," said the driver.
"What is he like?" asked the bishop. "Is he fair or dark, or tall or short?"
"He's fairish to dark and betwixt and between," said the driver, wishing to be accurate, "and mostly goes in big spectacles in his engine."
"Ha!" said the bishop, "we are on the scent! And what is Mrs. Bramwell like?"
"She do mostly go in the engine with specs on, too, sir. But my wife do say she be a very fine woman."
The bishop nodded.
"I think you may drive us to the Moat House," he said. "I will bring my friends out."
He rubbed his hands and congratulated himself on the skill with which he had discovered the object of his search.