“I am staying at the Hôtel de Louvre et de la Paix,” he said, “so it will be directly in my way to set you down at the Old Port where your ship lies.”
He bade them a fatherly good-by when they got out, and they climbed aboard the North Cape in the darkness.
“Just pinch me, will you, Kit,” Harry said, when they were safely on deck. “I don’t know whether I’m a cabin boy or a sort of graven image on that big altar.”
Captain Griffith was still up and reading, and he called the boys into his room.
“You made a long visit to that church,” he said. “I was getting a little alarmed about you.”
“We have been in good company, sir,” Kit answered. And he briefly told the story of their adventure. “I really don’t feel quite sure yet that we have not been dreaming,” he concluded. “Yes, it must have been real, though, for here is the letter the gentleman gave me.”
He held the dainty envelope down under the light, and read the address:—
“THE MOST REVEREND
THE BISHOP OF NEW ZEALAND
Wellington, N.Z.”
“Well,” the Captain exclaimed, “the letter is not sealed. You can easily tell by the signature who your distinguished friend was.”
Kit took the letter out and tried to read it, but soon gave it up.