The Bishops Secret | Page 8

unbecoming language!' he murmured.
'Perhaps it may be as well to humour him. Where is he?'

'In the entrance hall, your lordship!'
'Take him into the library and say I will see him shortly. Most unusual,'
said the bishop to himself. Then added aloud, 'Mrs Pansey, I am called
away for a moment; pray excuse me.'
'We must talk about The Derby Winner later on,' said Mrs Pansey,
determinedly.
'Oh, yes!--that is--really--I'll see.'
'Shall I accompany your lordship?' murmured Cargrim, officiously.
'No, Mr Cargrim, it is not necessary. I must see this man as he speaks
so strongly, but I daresay he is only some pertinacious person who
thinks that a bishop should be at the complete disposal of the
public--the exacting public!'
With this somewhat petulant speech Dr Pendle walked away, not sorry
to find an opportunity of slipping out of a noisy argument with Mrs
Pansey. That lady's parting words were that she should expect him back
in ten minutes to settle the question of The Derby Winner; or rather to
hear how she intended to settle it. Cargrim, pleased at being left behind,
since it gave him a chance of watching Gabriel, urged Mrs Pansey to
further discussion of the question, and had the satisfaction of seeing
that such discussion visibly disconcerted the curate.
And Dr Pendle? In all innocence he left the reception-rooms to speak
with his untoward visitor in the library; but although he knew it not, he
was entering upon a dark and tortuous path, the end of which he was
not destined to see for many a long day. Dr Graham's premonition was
likely to prove true, for in the serene sky under which the bishop had
moved for so long, a tempest was gathering fast. He should have taken
the doctor's advice and have sacrificed his ring like Polycrates, but, as
in the case of that old pagan, the gods might have tossed back the gift
and pursued their relentless aims. The bishop had no thoughts like these.
As yet he had no skeleton, but the man in the library was about to open
a cupboard and let out its grisly tenant to haunt prosperous Bishop

Pendle. To him, as to all men, evil had come at the appointed hour.
CHAPTER III
THE UNFORESEEN HAPPENS
'I fear,' said Cargrim, with a gentle sigh, 'I fear you are right about that
public-house, Mrs Pansey.'
The chaplain made this remark to renew the discussion, and if possible
bring Gabriel into verbal conflict with the lady. He had a great idea of
managing people by getting them under his thumb, and so far quite
deserved Mrs Pansey's epithet of a Jesuit. Of late--as Cargrim knew by
a steady use of his pale blue eyes--the curate had been visiting The
Derby Winner, ostensibly on parochial business connected with the
ill-health of Mrs Mosk, the landlord's wife. But there was a handsome
daughter of the invalid who acted as barmaid, and Gabriel was a young
and inflammable man; so, putting this and that together, the chaplain
thought he discovered the germs of a scandal. Hence his interest in Mrs
Pansey's proposed reforms.
'Right!' echoed the archidiaconal widow, loudly, 'of course I am right.
The Derby Winner is a nest of hawks. William Mosk would have
disgraced heathen Rome in its worst days; as for his daughter--well!'
Mrs Pansey threw a world of horror into the ejaculation.
'Miss Mosk is a well-conducted young lady,' said Gabriel, growing red
and injudicious.
'Lady!' bellowed Mrs Pansey, shaking her fan; 'and since when have
brazen, painted barmaids become ladies, Mr Pendle?'
'She is most attentive to her sick mother,' protested the curate, wincing.
'No doubt, sir. I presume even Jezebel had some redeeming qualities.
Rubbish! humbug! don't tell me! Can good come out of Nazareth?'
'Good did come out of Nazareth, Mrs Pansey.'

'That is enough, Mr Pendle; do not pollute young ears with blasphemy.
And you the son of a bishop--the curate of a parish! Remember what is
to be the portion of mockers, sir. What happened to the men who threw
stones at David?'
'Oh, but really, dear Mrs Pansey, you know Mr Pendle is not throwing
stones.'
'People who live in glass houses dare not, my dear. I doubt your interest
in this young person, Mr Pendle. She is one who tires her head and
paints her face, lying in wait for comely youths that she may destroy
them. She--'
'Excuse me, Mrs Pansey!' cried Gabriel, with an angry look, 'you speak
too freely and too ignorantly. The Derby Winner is a well-conducted
house, for Mrs Mosk looks after it personally, and her daughter is an
excellent young woman. I do not defend the father, but I hope to bring
him to a sense of his errors in time. There is