gh to understand the ethics of this conception,
therefore he abandoned any attempt to do so, and treating Baltic purely
as an ordinary detective, addressed himself to the task of arriving at
the evidence which was said to inculpate Dr Pendle in the murder of
Jentham. The ex-sailor accepted the common ground of argument, and in
his turn abandoned theology for the business of everyday life. Common
sense was needed to expose and abase and overturn those criminals whose
talents enabled them to conceal their wickedness; proselytism could
follow in due course. There was the germ of a new sect in Baltic's
conception of Christianity as a terrorising religion.

'Let me hear your evidence against the bishop,' said Sir Harry, calm and
business-like.

Baltic complied with this request and gave the outlines of the case in
barren detail. 'Sir,' said he, gravely, 'some weeks ago, while there was
a reception at the palace, this man Jentham called to see the bishop and
evidently attempted to blackmail him on account of some secret.
Afterwards Jentham, not being able to pay for his board and lodging at
The Derby Winner, promised Mosk, the landlord, that he would discharge
his bill shortly, as he expected the next week to receive much money.
From whom he did not say, but while drunk he boasted that Southberry
Heath was Tom Tiddler's ground, on which he could pick up gold and
silver. In the meantime, Bishop Pendle went up to London and drew out of
the Ophir Bank a sum of two hundred pounds, in twenty ten-pound notes.
With this money he returned to Beorminster and kept an appointment, on
the common, with Jentham, when returning on Sunday night from
Southberry. Whether he paid him the blackmail I cannot say; whether he
killed the man no one can declare honestly; but it is undoubtedly true
that, the next morning, Jentham, whom the bishop regarded as his enemy,
was found dead. These, sir, are the bare facts of the case, and, as you
can see, they certainly appear to inculpate Dr Pendle in the crime.'

This calm and pitiless statement chilled Sir Harry's blood. Although he
could not bring himself to believe that the bishop was guilty, yet he
saw plainly enough that the evidence tended, almost beyond all doubt, to
incriminate the prelate. Yet there might be flaws even in so complete an
indictment, and Harry, seeking for them, began eagerly to question
Baltic.

'Who told you all this?' he demanded with some apprehension.

'Mr Cargrim told me