if he were watching the bodily assumption
of a saint.

"Where have you been all the evening?" asked Uncle Henry, when Mark came
back about nine o'clock.

"In London," said Mark.

"Your insolence is becoming insupportable. Get away to your room."

It never struck Mr. Lidderdale that his nephew was telling the truth.

The hue and cry for Cyril Pomeroy began at once, and though Mark
maintained at first that the discovery of Cyril's hiding-place was due
to nothing else except the cowardice of Hacking, who when confronted by
a detective burst into tears and revealed all he knew, he was bound to
admit afterward that, if Mr. Ogilvie had been questioned much more, he
would have had to reveal the secret himself. Mark was hurt that his
efforts to help a son of Holy Church should not be better appreciated by
Mr. Ogilvie; but he forgave his friend in view of the nuisance that it
undoubtedly must have been to have Meade Cantorum beleaguered by half a
dozen corpulent detectives. The only person in the Vicarage who seemed
to approve of what he had done was Esther; she who had always seemed to
ignore him, even sometimes in a sensitive mood to despise him, was full
of congratulations.

"How did you manage it, Mark?"

"Oh, I took a cab," said Mark modestly. "One from the corner of
Cranborne Road to Slowbridge, and another from Paddington to Waterloo.
We had some sandwiches, and a good deal of ginger-beer at Paddington
because we thought we mightn't be able to get any at Waterloo, but at
Waterloo we had some more ginger-beer. I wish I hadn't told Hacking. If
I hadn't, we should probably have pulled it off. Old Dorward was up to
anything. But Hacking is a hopeless ass."

"What does your uncle say?"

"He's rather sick," Mark admitted. "He refused to let me go to school
any more, which as you may imagine doesn't upset me very much, and I'm
to go into Hitchcock's office after Christmas. As far as I can make out
I shall be a kind of servant."

"Have you talked to Stephen about it?"

"Well, he's a bit annoyed with me about this kidnapping. I'm afraid I
have rather let him in for it. He says he doesn't mind so much if it's
kept out of the papers."

"Anyway, I think it was a sporting effort by you," said Esther. "I
wasn't particularly keen on you until you brought this off. I hate pious
boys. I wish you'd told me beforehand. I'd have loved to help."

"Would you? I say, I am sorry. I never thought of you," said Mark much
disappoin