d. The Bishop and Miles Furley came hastily in.
Catherine stepped forward to meet them.

"I was obliged to whistle," she explained, a little hysterically. "I
do not trust either of these men. That fiend Bright has a poisonous gas
with him in a pocket cylinder. I am convinced that they meant to murder
Julian."

The two newcomers turned towards the couch and exchanged amazed
greetings with Julian. Fenn threw his mask on to the table with an
uneasy laugh.

"Miss Abbeway," he protested, "is inclined to be melodramatic. The gas
which Bright has in that cylinder is simply one which would produce a
little temporary unconsciousness. We might have used it--we may still
use it--but if you others are able to persuade Mr. Orden to restore
the packet, our task with him is at an end. We are not his gaolers--or
perhaps he would say his torturers--for pleasure. The Council has
ordered that we should extort from him the papers you know of and has
given us carte blanche as to the means. If you others can persuade him
to restore them peaceably, why, do it. We are prepared to wait."

Julian was still staring from one to the other of his visitors. His
expression of blank astonishment had scarcely decreased.

"Bishop," he said at last, "unless you want to see me go insane before
your eyes, please explain. It can't be possible that you have anything
in common with this nest of conspirators."

The Bishop smiled a little wanly. He laid his hand upon his godson's
shoulder.

"Believe me, I have been no party to your incarceration, Julian,", he
declared, "but if you will listen to me, I will tell you why I think it
would be better for you to restore that packet to Miss Abbeway:"

"Tell that blackguard to give me another sniff of his restorative gas,"
Julian begged. "These shocks are almost too much for me."

The Bishop turned interrogatively towards Bright, who once more leaned
over Julian with the tube in his hand. Again the little mist, the
pungent odour. Julian rose to his feet and sat down again.

"I am listening," he said.

"First of all," began the Bishop earnestly, as he seated himself at the
end of the couch on which Julian had been lying, "let me try to remove
some of your misconceptions. Miss Abbeway is in no sense of the word
a German spy. She and I, Mr. Furley here, Mr. Fenn and Mr. Bright,
all belong to an organisation leagued together for one purpose--we are
determined to end the war."

"Pacifists!" Julian muttered.