"Martha," said Mrs. Quelch, reprovingly, "have you no self-respect?
Is _this_ the way you deal to so shameful a deception?" Then,
turning the supposed offender, "So, Mr. Fladgate, you have escaped
from your foreign prison."

"Foreign, how much? Have you both gone dotty, ladies? I've just
escaped from a third-class carriage on the London and Northwestern.
The space is limited, but I never heard it called a foreign prison."

"It is useless to endeavour to deceive us," said Mrs. Quelch,
sternly. "Look at that telegram, Mr. Fladgate, and deny it if you
can. You have been gadding about in some vile foreign place with
my misguided husband."

"Oh, Quelch is in it too, is he? Then it _must_ be a bad case.
But let's see what we have been up to, for, 'pon my word, I'm quite
in the dark at present."

He held out his hand for the telegram, and read it carefully.
"Somebody's been having a lark with you, old lady," he said to his
wife. "You know well enough where I've been--my regular northern
journey, and nowhere else."

"I don't believe a word of it," said Mrs. Quelch, "you men are all
alike--deceivers, every one of you."

"Much obliged for your good opinion, Mrs. Quelch. I had no idea
Quelch was such a bad lot. But, so far as I am concerned, the
thing's easily tested. Here is the bill for my bed last night at
Carlisle. Now if I was in Carlisle and larking about at Dieppe at