he'd have looked, staggering through the streets, with his head big
enough for two, and held together with white plaster!"

"What has he done to his head?" wondered Mr. Galloway.

"Good gracious! have you not heard?" exclaimed the lady, whose mode of
speech was rarely overburdened with polite words, though she meant no
disrespect by it. "He got locked up in the cloisters last night with
old Ketch and the bishop."

Mr. Galloway stared at her. He had been dining, the previous evening,
with some friends at the other end of the town, and knew nothing of the
occurrence. Had he been within hearing when the college bell tolled out
at night, he would have run to ascertain the cause as eagerly as any
schoolboy. "Locked up in the cloisters with old Ketch and the bishop!"
he repeated, in amazement. "I do not understand."

Mrs. Jenkins proceeded to enlighten him. She gave the explanation of
the strange affair of the keys, as it had been given to her by the
unlucky Joe. While telling it, Arthur Channing entered, and, almost
immediately afterwards, Roland Yorke.

"The bishop, of all people!" uttered Mr. Galloway. "What an untoward
thing for his lordship!"

"No more untoward for him than for others," retorted the lady. "It just
serves Jenkins right. What business had he to go dancing through the
cloisters with old Ketch and his keys?"

"But how did Jenkins get hurt?" asked Mr. Galloway, for that particular