THE Bishop of Bister's dinner hour was eight o'clock. With unfailing
regularity, when at the palace, he entered the drawing-room at 7.58 in
order to collect his family and any guests. His annoyance may therefore
be understood when at 7.55 on the night in question a servant brought
him a card on which was written:
"Georgiowitch Kassala, Mush, L. Van, Khurd., craves audience."
"The gentleman is in the examination room, my lord," the servant added.
"A very awkward time for calling," said the Bishop, consulting his watch
unnecessarily. Then, with a sigh, "Ask your mistress to keep dinner back
ten minutes."
His lordship ambled to the examination room. A big man in a loose blue
cassock-like garb rose at his entrance--a big-limbed, red-bearded man,
with enormous eyebrows. He rose, bowed low, and sank on his knees,
caught hold of the prelate's hand, caressed it gently, and finally
kissed it. The Bishop was embarrassed. He preferred that sort of thing
to be done before an audience, when he would play his part with the best
of them, but with no spectators at all he felt uncomfortable.
"Rise," he said gently.
The red-bearded man obeyed. "I am--" he began. "I have come--ah, perhaps
I had better show you my papers. I have a letter from my Patriarch."
This in excellent English, with just a trace of a foreign accent.
From his capacious pocket he drew out a bundle of papers. He abstracted
a letter therefrom, and handed it with evident pride to the Bishop.
It was apparently Greek, yet it was not the language his lordship of
Bister had learnt at school and college. Here and there he saw a word he
almost knew, yet the next one to it was a perfect stranger. He glanced
at the end. There was a big seal, an extraordinary date, an impossible
name.
His visitor seemed to appreciate the position. "Our Patriarch is old,"
he said. "He is no longer facile to read. I sometimes have difficulty
myself, though I know his writing well. May I read it to you?"
He did this with great fluency and emphasis; but the Bishop understood
nothing, though occasionally he thought he caught the sound of a
fleeting particle.
The letter was finished. "And this," said the reader, producing a blue
document, "is more earthy." It was, being from Scotland Yard, informing
all and sundry that the bearer, Georgiowitch Kassala, a Christian
priest, was authorised to collect subscriptions for the church of Saint
Barnabas at Mush, in Khurdistan.
"Ah!" said the Bishop, with perhaps a shade of disappointment in his
voice. "I hope you have been successful."
"Your Grace, I have travelled far, and not without recompense. To all I
have said, 'If you give me money it is well, but if you do not it is
still well.' Some have replied, 'Then we'll leave it at that,' but many
have responded. See--here is my subscription book. I have begged from
Batoum to Bister. I have received money in fifteen different coinages,
of which the English is the finest and difficultest. Perhaps my most
interesting contribution is this--see, a kopeck from Lassitudino
Hospidar, the heathen cook of a Bulgarian wind-jammer, in memory of his
maternal uncle, who died from the bite of a mad dog at Varna. And now,
being in Bister, I thought, although it is late, I will at once call
upon his Grace the Bishop, whose fame has reached our little town of
Mush, whose name is known by the deep waters of Van."
His lordship sighed. The west end of his cathedral was sinking below the
surface. At the present rate of subsidence the Dean had calculated that
only the gargoyles would be above ground in the year 3000. This had to
be stopped. There was a matter of underpinning for a start, but it costs
money to underpin the west end of a cathedral. And all the while the
usual subscription lists had to be headed from the Palace, and there was
more than the usual depression in agriculture. The Bishop felt that it
was a singularly inappropriate moment to contribute to a church in
Khurdistan, yet it would not do to discount his own fair fame in that
far distant land. He must think the matter over. Meantime he would offer
his guest such hospitality as would compensate for the smallness of his
contribution.
"My friend," he said, "your Patriarch shall not appeal to me in vain,
although, as you may well believe, I have many calls upon my purse. But
we will speak again of this. You will, of course, spend the night under
my roof, and now, if you will join us at dinner I shall be very
pleased."
The priest's face broke into smiles. "You are most kind," he replied. "I
shall be glad." Then he glanced doubtfully from the Bishop's evening
dress to his own raiment.
"Tut, tut," said his lordship pleasantly. "'A wash and a brush up,' as
our saying is, and you'll be all right. Come along."
It was 8.15 when they entered the drawing-room. "My dear," said the
Bishop appeasingly to his hungry wife, "I have brought a visitor from
Mush, in Asia Minor. Mr.--er--Kassala--Mrs. Dacre--my daughters."
The visitor bowed low before the ladies. The Bishop thought he was going
to kneel, so restrained him with a gentle hand. "Here," he went on, "is
my chaplain, Mr. Jones, who will be greatly interested to hear of your
work at home. And this," he concluded, "is our friend, Mr. Marmaduke
Percy."
Then they moved to the dining-room.
At dinner Mr. Kassala conducted himself with ease, and spoke with great
fluency on many matters; so much so that Mr. Marmaduke Percy, no doubt
feeling that the Asiatic was monopolizing too much attention, asked him
somewhat abruptly where he had acquired his excellent English.
"I had it from one of your countrymen, sir," replied Mr. Kassala
pleasantly. "He was engaged in the smuggling of aniline dyes into
Persia. Of course, I did not know his real occupation, or I should have
had nothing to do with him. He pretended to import chocolates and acid
drops and--barley-sugar, I think he called it--and such-like things; but
they were all filled with aniline colours. In return for language
lessons he got me to introduce him to the chief of the Persian frontier
Customs, whom he bribed for his purposes. He made a large fortune before
the Shah discovered that the colours of the Palace carpets were fading.
My friend, the chief of the frontier Customs, was beheaded, and three
dyers were put into plaster of Paris; but the Englishman escaped. His
name was Benjamin Watts. Do you happen to know him, sir?"
The episcopal circle was justly shocked at this recital of their
countryman's perfidy, and Mr. Percy warmly repudiated any knowledge of
Mr. Watts.
The Bishop found his guest profoundly interesting, and he twice made
notes in his pocket-book about Asiatic matters. The ladies left the room
regretfully.
The chaplain, who was of an extremely bashful temperament, now put a
question that had been trembling on his tongue all the dinner hour.
"Is not your village somewhere near Mount Ararat?"
"Certainly. We can see its snow-capped summit quite plainly from Mush.
With a telescope we can even discern where the Ark rested after the
Flood."
The Bishop looked at his guest reprovingly, for jokes on such matters
grieved him deeply.
"I mean it, your Grace," said Kassala. "Surely you heard that the Ark
itself was discovered about three months ago?"
"What?" exclaimed the Bishop and the chaplain together. "The Ark
discovered?"
"Certainly," Kassala replied. "My venerable Patriarch had long suspected
that remnants might be found preserved in the perpetual ice, so he
sought the assistance of Professor Papineau, of Prague, who was
travelling in the East. After months of--what do you call
it?--pro--yes--prospecting--this gentleman discovered an enormous chunk
of ice bearing some resemblance in outline to the object of their
search. The only possible way to remove the ice was by blasting, and
Professor Papineau inserted a charge of dynamite. A fatal mistake was
made in the size of the charge, with the result that the whole enormous
chunk was blown to atoms. Embedded in the fragments were found what were
apparently portions of a leviathan ship, which my Patriarch and
Professor Papineau regard as being the veritable vessel built by Noah.
In no other way but by a universal deluge could it have got on Mount
Ararat. But for the mistake made in the size of the charge the structure
of the Ark might have been at any rate partially preserved. It was a
terrible misfortune, only to be compared to the destruction of the
Parthenon by the Venetians. Professor Papineau was for a long fortnight
ill in bed with remorse. He reads a paper on the whole incident at the
forthcoming Oriental Congress at Prague.
"But perhaps I have been indiscreet. Evidently the news has not reached
your country, and the Professor may wish to be the first to give it to
the world. He might resent my telling you, and my Patriarch would be
grieved. I beg you to keep the information inviolate until you read of
Professor Papineau's paper at Prague."
[Illustration: "MR. KASSALA HAD THEN THE PLEASURE OF INSPECTING THE
CROZIER."
(_p. 27._)]
The Bishop and the chaplain nodded their assent. They seemed to have no
words left in them. After breathing-space they both pulled out their
pocket-books, and made some memoranda.
Later the conversation turned on vestments, and such matters. "Do you
know, your Grace," said Mr. Kassala, "I have heard that you are the only
bishop with a pastoral staff. Is that so?"
"No. It's the other way about. I'm the only bishop who hasn't one. I
alone share with the archbishops the dignity of a crozier. The old
crozier of the see is now kept in our chapter house. It was too old for
use, so last year the ladies of the county presented me with a new one.
If you like, I will show it you. Mr. Jones, I wonder if you would mind
bringing my crozier from the library?"
Five minutes later the chaplain re-appeared, bringing a long case with
him. This was duly opened, and Mr. Kassala had then the pleasure of
inspecting the crozier presented by the ladies of the county. It was of
ebony and gold, and was richly jewelled. It was a work of art well worth
the encomiums bestowed upon it by the Asiatic.
"With your permission, your Grace," he said, "I should very much like to
make a water-colour sketch of it in order to show to my Patriarch, who
is deeply interested in such matters. He has a very fine crozier
himself. Would you allow me?"
"By all means," said the Bishop.
"Thank you. I will do it before breakfast in the morning. I am an early
riser. I suppose I may find it in this room?"
The Bishop nodded, but Mr. Percy intervened. "Allow me to take care of
it over-night, Bishop. I don't think you ought to leave such a valuable
article about. There is always the possibility of burglars. I am told
there is a gang in the district just now."
The Bishop smiled good-humouredly. "I don't think we need consider that
eventuality," he said. "But as you like. Now shall we join the ladies?"
Perhaps Mr. Kassala was hardly as entertaining in the drawing-room as he
had previously been. He seemed a little preoccupied. At eleven the house
party retired to rest, Mr. Percy carefully carrying to his room the case
containing the crozier.
[Illustration: "HE SAW THE FIGURE PASS A WINDOW."
(_p. 28._)]
The Reverend Arthur Jones, his lordship's chaplain, was a light sleeper
at best, and to-night the excitement of Mr. Kassala's visit kept him
particularly wide-awake. His thoughts were with the unhappy Professor
Papineau. He was wondering whether it would not be kind to send him a
letter of sympathy, when his attention was attracted by a noise outside
his room. He jumped out of bed and opened his door quietly. Someone was
stealthily walking along the corridor. He saw the figure pass a window,
and the moonlight fell upon Mr. Kassala. In great wonderment Mr. Jones
followed. A turn of the passage brought the Asiatic to the head of the
great staircase, and here he stopped so suddenly that the chaplain
almost ran into him. For two minutes Mr. Kassala paused in a state of
indecision. Then he advanced to a door, and gently opened it. Mr. Jones
was paralysed with horror. It was the Bishop's bedroom. What could
Mr. Kassala want there? Determined to save his beloved chief, Mr. Jones
followed. As he entered the room there was an exclamation from the
Bishop. Mr. Jones turned involuntarily. As he did so, Mr. Kassala
collided with him. The Bishop sprang out of bed, and switched on the
electric light. "Mr. Kassala!" he exclaimed. "And Mr. Jones! Pray, what
is the meaning of this?"
"A thousand pardons, your Grace," said the Asiatic. "I have mistaken the
room. I wanted Mr. Percy."
At this moment the next door opened, and Mr. Percy appeared.
"What's the matter?" he asked.
"That's what I should like to know," said the prelate. "Mr. Kassala says
he is looking for you."
"Indeed! What for?"
"I--er--was wondering if you had a camel-hair paint brush?" said Mr.
Kassala.
"Well, you needn't wonder any longer. I haven't," Mr. Percy replied.
"And what do you want, Mr. Jones?" asked the Bishop sternly.
"Nothing, my lord, nothing," said the unhappy Jones. "I was only
following Mr. Kassala."
"Then perhaps you'll follow him to bed," remarked the Bishop drily. "I
hope I shall have a more satisfactory explanation in the morning."
Here, no doubt feeling that the situation was hardly in keeping with his
dignity, the Bishop closed his door. Mr. Percy did the same, while Mr.
Kassala and the shivering Jones returned to their corridor.
Mr. Kassala seemed rather amused than otherwise at the situation, but
Mr. Jones was permeated with distress. "Cheer up," said the Asiatic, as
he turned into his room. "If you will meddle in other people's business
you're bound to suffer for it."
There was no sleep for the unhappy chaplain that night. He was in love
with the eldest Miss Dacre, who, he had reason to believe, returned his
affection, and he had determined to see her father on the subject on the
morrow. But after the events of that night such an interview was highly
inadvisable. Yet he had acted from the best and most creditable of
motives. Only by hearsay was he acquainted with the habits and customs
of the East, but he felt sure that honest Asiatics would not be found
prowling about a palace in the midnight hours. What did Mr. Kassala
want in the Bishop's room? Was it theft or--something worse? Was this
self-styled priest the emissary of some Eastern organization bent upon
destroying the flower of the Western hierarchy? Was he a Thug? Mr. Jones
shuddered at the possibilities of the situation.
Ha! What was that? Again a creak outside. For a moment he listened
breathlessly. Then he opened his door again. Good gracious! there was
Mr. Kassala once more slinking down the corridor.
Hastily putting on his dressing-gown, Mr. Jones followed, with nerves
strung to their highest tension. This time the Asiatic walked with no
uncertain step. As he passed the Bishop's door the chaplain's heart gave
a bound of relief. He stopped at Mr. Percy's door, and tapped gently.
The light in the room was turned on, and the door opened by Mr. Percy
himself. Mr. Kassala entered, and the door closed noiselessly behind
him.
For some minutes Mr. Jones stared at the door in blank amazement. Then
he turned round, and walked slowly back to his own room. In times of
great perplexity he was accustomed to look for guidance to Mr. Paley's
"Evidences." Mechanically he now took down the well-thumbed volume from
its shelf, and opened it. He sat for many hours staring at the print
without ever turning the page.
"Where is Mr. Kassala?" were the Bishop's first words on entering the
breakfast-room the next morning. Although his lordship had betrayed no
consciousness of his existence Mr. Jones felt that the inquiry was
levelled at him.
"I do not know, my lord," he answered.
"John," said the Bishop to his butler, "will you inform Mr. Kassala that
breakfast is on the table?"
In a few minutes John returned with the information that Mr. Kassala's
room was empty, that his bed had not been slept in, and that nobody had
seen him that morning.
"This is very singular," said his lordship. Then, after a pause, "One
hardly likes to say so, but I must confess my confidence in the _bona
fides_ of Mr. Kassala has been shaken. You spoke about burglars last
night, Marmaduke, in reference to my crozier, which seemed to have a
peculiar attraction for Mr. Kassala. I hope it is safe."
"I put the case on the top of my wardrobe last night, and it was there
five minutes ago," said Mr. Percy.
"I wonder what his object could be in coming here, and then leaving us
in this extraordinary manner. Perhaps you can throw some light on that
very peculiar incident in the middle of the night, Mr. Jones?"
"I heard a noise, my lord, and followed Mr. Kassala to see what he was
doing. I haven't the faintest idea why he went into your room, unless it
really was, as he said, that he had mistaken it for Mr. Percy's."
"But what should he want with Mr. Percy?" asked Mrs. Dacre.
"Perhaps Mr. Percy will answer that?" said the chaplain, with much
meaning in his voice.
Mr. Percy fixed the eyeglass and looked coolly at the chaplain. "How on
earth should I know, Jones?" he said. With this oracular remark he
returned to his egg.
The chaplain was bursting with indignation at Mr. Percy's concealment of
his midnight interview with Mr. Kassala. He longed to expose him, but
shrank from the necessity of a painful scene.
"Mildred," said Mrs. Dacre suddenly, "let us look through the
drawing-room silver at once. I hope the equestrian statuette of your
father is safe."
While the ladies were ticking off their household gods, Mr. Percy went
to his room to pack, and Mr. Jones followed.
"May I have his lordship's crozier?" asked the chaplain.
"Certainly. Here you are. But you do look unhappy, Jones! Whatever is
the matter?"
Mr. Jones took the case without replying. "The key was in the lock last
night," he remarked.
"Was it? Then it must have dropped out somewhere. Perhaps it's on the
floor." But it did not seem to be there, although both Mr. Percy and the
chaplain looked very carefully for it.
"Never mind," said the former, after five minutes' fruitless search. "It
will probably turn up after I've gone. Remember, that I'll be
responsible for any damage."
The chaplain was very pale. "Mr. Percy," he said, "I know of your
midnight interview with Mr. Kassala."
Once more Mr. Percy fixed his monocle. "Do you, old man?" he replied.
"Then I won't be the one to get you into trouble over it. You may rely
on me. If you don't say anything, I shan't. Now good-bye. It'll take me
all my time to get my things together. My man's ill, and I'm out of
practice."
Mr. Jones left the room more bewildered than ever. His lordship, after
leaving stringent instructions regarding Mr. Kassala, should he again
appear, went by the noon train to town with Mr. Percy.
Mr. Jones appeared singularly distracted that day, and Miss Dacre gazed
at him with much concern. He spent the evening alone with Paley, and
about eleven o'clock, with firm determination on his face, he forced the
lock of the crozier case. His worst fears were realised. In place of the
crozier of ebony, gold, and jewels, the present of the ladies of the
county, there reposed in the purple velvet lining a common bedroom
poker!
At that very moment the Bishop of Bister's crozier lay on the table of a
London mansion. Twelve men were gathered round it, complimenting their
host upon it. Their host, by the way, was lately his Majesty's Secretary
of State for Egypt. He was now attired in a long blue cassock-like garb,
such as Asiatic priests may wear.
"By the burglary of the Bishop of Bister's crozier Lord Ribston's
subscription has been paid for the next two years," said one of the men,
making a cypher note in a book.
"Hear, hear! Bravo! Good for the Ribston Pippin!" was the general
chorus.
"Gentlemen," said the man in the priestly garb, rising to his feet
amidst applause, "I am proud once more to have been able to fulfil the
mandate of our Club. With your permission, I will now pack up the bauble
so that it may be returned by the midnight express in order to ease the
mind of a most worthy man, his lordship's chaplain. But before I do so I
wish to propose a new member--Mr. Marmaduke Percy. You will recollect
that his name was brought forward twelve months or so ago, but he was
not considered equal to the demands that are occasionally made upon the
members of this honourable fraternity. I have reason to believe that we
did Mr. Percy an injustice. Yesterday, at any rate, he saw through my
disguise, and divined my purpose. He could easily have betrayed me. But
he behaved in a sportsmanlike way, and for that reason I now propose
that he should become one of us. Major Armytage is seconding. You will
have an opportunity of voting for Mr. Percy at our next meeting. Is
there any further business before us, Mr. Secretary?"
The Secretary consulted his book. "I note that Mr. Danby Travers'
subscription is due," he said.
"Good old Danby! Pile it on! Make it thick enough!" was the varied cry.
"Gentlemen," said the Secretary, "we meet on Tuesday next, and Mr. Danby
Travers will then be asked for the Black Pearl of Agni, the property of
the Illingworths."