ham's medicine and a night's rest will
restore me to my usual strength.'

'It's not your heart, I trust, George?'

'His heart!' jested the doctor. 'His lordship's heart is as sound as his
digestion.'

'We thought you might have been upset by bad news, papa.'

'I have had no bad news, Lucy. I am only a trifle overcome by late hours
and fatigue. Take your mother to bed; and you, my dear,' added the
bishop, kissing his wife, 'don't worry yourself unnecessarily.
Good-night, and good sleep.'

'Some valerian for your nerves, bishop--'

'I have taken something for my nerves, Amy. Rest is all I need just
now.'

Thus reassured, Mrs Pendle submitted to be led from the library by Lucy.
She was followed by Gabriel, who was now quite easy in his mind about
his father. Cargrim and Graham remained, but the bishop, taking no
notice of their presence, looked at the door through which his wife and
children had vanished, and uttered a sound something between a sigh and
a groan.

Dr Graham looked anxiously at him, and the look was intercepted by
Cargrim, who at once made up his mind that there was something seriously
wrong, which both Graham and the bishop desired to conceal. The doctor
noted the curious expression in the chaplain's eyes, and with bluff
good-humour--which was assumed, as he disliked the man--proceeded to
turn him out of the library. Cargrim--bent on discovering the
truth--protested, in his usual cat-like way, against this sudden
dismissal.

'I should be happy to sit up all night with his lordship,' he declared.

'Sit up with your grandmother!' cried Graham, gruffly. 'Go to bed, sir,
and don't make mountains out of mole-hills.'

'Good-night, my lord,' said Cargrim, softly. 'I trust you will find
yourself fully restored in the morning.'

'Thank you, Mr Cargrim; good-night!'

When the chaplain sidled out of the room, Dr Graham rubbed his hands and
turned briskly towards his patient, who was standing as still as any
stone, staring in a hypnotised sort of way at the reading lamp on the
desk.

'Come, my lord,' said he, touching the bishop on the shoulder, 'you must
take your composing draught and get to bed. You'll be all right in the
morning.'

'I trust so!' replied Pendle, with a groan.

'Of course, bishop, if you won't tell me what is the matter with you, I
can't cure you.'

'I am upset, doctor, that is all.'

'You have had a severe nervous shock,' said Graham, sharply, 'and it
will take some time fo