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however, is that Lady Widdrington and her mother want me to do it, and
you must have seen for yourself that they are strong, determined women. I fear
the worst.’
    He tottered to
a chair and dropped into it, shaking. Lancelot regarded him with affectionate
pity.
    ‘When did this
start?’ he asked.
    ‘On board
ship,’ said the Bishop. ‘Have you ever made an ocean voyage, Lancelot?’
    ‘I’ve been to
America a couple of times.’
    ‘That can
scarcely be the same thing,’ said the Bishop, musingly. ‘The transatlantic
trip is so brief, and you do not get those nights of tropic moon. But even on
your voyages to America you must have noticed the peculiar attitude towards the
opposite sex induced by the salt air.’
    ‘They all look
good to you at sea,’ agreed Lancelot.
    ‘Precisely,’
said the Bishop. ‘And during a voyage, especially at night, one finds oneself
expressing oneself with a certain warmth which even at the time one tells
oneself is injudicious. I fear that on board the liner with Lady Widdrington,
my dear boy, I rather let myself go.’
    Lancelot began
to understand.
    ‘You shouldn’t
have come to her house,’ he said.
    ‘When I
accepted the invitation, I was, if I may use a figure of speech, still under
the influence. It was only after I had been here some ten days that I awoke to
the realization of my peril.’
    ‘Why didn’t
you leave?’
    The Bishop
groaned softly.
    ‘They would
not permit me to leave. They countered every excuse. I am virtually a prisoner
in this house, Lancelot. The other day I said that I had urgent business with
my legal adviser and that this made it imperative that I should proceed
instantly to the metropolis.’
    ‘That should
have worked,’ said Lancelot.
    ‘It did not.
It failed completely. They insisted that I invite my legal adviser down here
where my business could be discussed in the calm atmosphere of the Hampshire
countryside. I endeavoured to reason with them, but they were firm. You do not
know how firm women can be,’ said the Bishop, shivering, ‘till you have placed
yourself in my unhappy position. How well I appreciate now that powerful image
of Shakespeare’s — the one about grappling with hoops of steel. Every time I
meet Lady Widdrington, I can feel those hoops drawing me ever closer to her.
And the woman repels me even as that cat of hers repels me. Tell me, my boy, to
turn for an instant to a pleasanter subject, how is my dear Webster?’
    Lancelot
hesitated.
    ‘Full of
beans,’ he said.
    ‘He is on a
diet?’ asked the Bishop anxiously. ‘The doctor has ordered vegetarianism?’
    ‘Just an
expression,’ explained Lancelot, ‘to indicate robust-ness.
    ‘Ah!’ said the
Bishop, relieved. ‘And what disposition have you made of him in your absence?
He is in good hands, I trust?’
    ‘The best,’
said Lancelot. ‘His host is the ablest veterinary in London — Doctor J. C.
Robinson of 9 Bott Street, Chelsea, a man not only skilled in his profession
but of the highest moral tone.’
    ‘I knew I
could rely on you to see that all was well with him,’ said the Bishop
emotionally. ‘Otherwise, I should have shrunk from asking you to leave London
and come here —strong shield of defence though you will be to me in my peril.’
    ‘But what use
can I be to you?’ said Lancelot, puzzled.
    ‘The greatest,’
the Bishop assured him. ‘Your presence will be invaluable. You must keep the
closest eye upon Lady Widdrington and myself, and whenever you observe us
wandering off together — she is assiduous in her efforts to induce me to visit
the rose-garden in her company, for example — you must come hurrying up and
detach me with the ostensible purpose of discussing legal matters. By these
means we may avert what I had come to regard as the inevitable.’
    ‘I understand
thoroughly,’ said Lancelot. A jolly good scheme. Rely on me.
    ‘The ruse I
have outlined,’ said the Bishop regretfully, ‘involves, as I hinted in my
telegram,