Part 17 (1/2)

”I wonder,” Lord Hayle said, at length, ”if Sir Anthony will have any news?”

”I am sure I hope so,” the bishop answered. ”I saw him this morning in Whitehall, and he told me that everything that could possibly be done was being done. The whole of Scotland Yard, in fact, is bending its attention to the discovery of the whereabouts of your friend.”

”I wish,” Lord Hayle returned grimly, ”I wish we could have a Johnnie like Sherlock Holmes on John's trek. There don't seem to be any of that sort of people outside the magazines.”

At that moment the door of the library opened, and the butler came in.

He carried a pile of evening papers upon a tray.

”These are the latest editions, my lord,” he said, bringing them up to the bishop.

The father and son took the papers and opened them hurriedly.

Huge head-lines greeted their eyes. ”Where is the duke?” ”Has the duke disappeared with intention?” ”Last news of the missing duke.” ”Rumours that the Duke of Paddington has taken a berth on the _Lucania_ under the name of John Smith.” ”If the duke does not return, what will this mean to the ground-rents of London?” and so forth, and so forth, and so forth.

The bishop put down the papers with a weary sigh.

”The same thing,” he said, ”my dear Gerald, the same sort of thing.”

Lord Hayle looked up at his father.

”Yes,” he answered, ”what fools these journalists are!”

”No, my dear boy, they are not fools. When they have anything to write about, they write about it rather well. When they haven't, of course they must manufacture.”

”A confounded swindle, I call it!” said Lord Hayle.

The bishop did not answer. He remembered how much he owed to the press of London and the provinces for his advancement in the Church.

”Well,” Lord Hayle said, ”I shall go up-stairs, father, to my own room and have a tub and a pipe, and think the whole thing over. I suppose we may hear something from Sir Anthony at dinner to-night.”

”My dear boy,” the bishop replied, ”I'm sure I hope so.”

Lord Hayle had already risen from his seat, and was walking towards the door of the library when the butler entered once more. He bore a silver salver, upon which was a card, and went straight up to Lord Camborne.

”My lord,” he said, ”there is a gentleman waiting in the morning-room.

He desires to see you upon a most important matter. I told the gentleman that your lords.h.i.+p was probably engaged, but he would not be denied.”

”I cannot see anybody,” the bishop replied, rather irritably. ”Take the card to the chaplain.”

”I beg your lords.h.i.+p's pardon,” said the butler, ”but I think this is a gentleman whom your lords.h.i.+p would wish to see.”

The bishop pulled out his single eye-gla.s.s--he was the only prelate upon the bench who wore one--and looked at the card upon the tray.

”Good gracious!” he said, with a sudden sharpness in his voice. ”This fellow! How dare----”

”Who has come to see you?” Lord Hayle asked.

The bishop's face was flushed. There was indignation in his voice, contempt in his eyes, and angry irritation in his pose.