The Bishop felt his heart thumping as that healthy organ had not
thumped for years. "I feel a bit that way," he gasped. "You remember
what we were talking of the other day?"

"The other day--talking--" Fielding looked bewildered. Then his face
darkened. "You mean Dick--the affair with that girl." His voice was at
once hard and unresponsive. "What about it?"

"Not at all," said the Bishop, complainingly. "Don't misunderstand like
that, Dick--it's so much harder."

"Oh!" and Fielding's look cleared. "Well, what is it then, old man? Out
with it--want a check for a mission? Surely you don't hesitate to tell
me that! Whatever I have is yours, too--you know it."

The Bishop looked deeply disgusted. "Muddlehead!" was his unexpected
answer, and Fielding, serene in the consciousness of generosity and good
feeling, looked as if a hose had been turned on him.

"What the devil!" he said. "Excuse me, Jim, but just tell me what you're
after. I can't make you out."

"It's most difficult." The Bishop seemed to articulate with trouble.
"It was so long ago, and I've never spoken of it." Fielding, mouth and
eyes wide, watched him as he stumbled on. "There were three of us, you
see--though, of course, you didn't know. Nobody knew. She told my
mother, that was all.--Oh, I'd no idea how difficult this would be," and
the Bishop pushed back his damp hair and gasped again. Suddenly a wave
of color rushed over his face.