"I never said a word."

"My hat!" she cried. "Won't you get a wigging to-night?"

Then, seeing his evident discomfiture, she added:

"Never mind, I'll take it with you; and if she turns nasty we'll put a flea in her ear about those mud-baths. Come, let's have our fun, anyway." And she put her hand on the cabin door.

"Why, it's stuck!" she exclaimed. "I can't open it."

The Bishop grasped the handle.

"It isn't stuck!" he cried, shaking it. "It's locked!"

While events had been progressing in the cabin, others of no less importance were taking place on deck. Once they were well off the land, Funk lost no time in calling a meeting of the crew of the yacht, who formed a circle around him.

"Now, my hearties," he said, introducing Marchmont, "this gentleman's got a word to say to you which it's worth your while to hear." And he put him in the centre of the ring.

"Mates," began the journalist, fitting his speech to the audience he was addressing, "I'm a plain man of few words, and I've come to you about a plain matter. Mr. Funk will tell you I'm speaking the truth; and you know this gentleman," indicating the tramp.

The crowd growled gutturally. They appreciated the tramp's generous offers of liquor, but not his society.

"Well," continued Marchmont, ignoring the unfavourable tone, "I suppose you'd all like to see the Yankees lick the Dons."

"Ay, ay, you're right there," muttered a burly tar.

"Good for you! We're all of the same family, and blood's thicker than water. Of course you want the boys in blue to win; and that being the case, I rely on you to help me, like true British tars, the nation's bulwarks--!"

"Hear, hear!" growled the crowd appreciatively.

"Now do you know whom you've aboard to-day?" demanded the American.

"The Bishop o' Blanford, and a laidy," came the tones of a voice whose owner evidently hailed from London.

"No, you haven't," cried the journalist excitedly. "No, you haven't!

You've got two low-down Spanish spies!"

"What d'ye say, mate?" demanded the first speaker among the crew.

"I'm telling you the truth," vociferated Marchmont, lying boldly; for he feared that the Bishop's conspiracies would go for nothing if they suspected he was really a churchman.

"I'm telling you the truth," he repeated. "And these two gentlemen,"

referring to the mate and the tramp, "will back me up. That man's no more the Bishop of Blanford than you are! And the _lady_--well, she's on the stage when she isn't in the pay of the Spanish Government. I've tracked them from the States to Canada, where I saw them both a month ago, and then to England. I don't say how they got hold of this yacht, but I ask you, where's the captain and the first mate?"

A growl of suspicion rewarded his efforts.

"They took pretty good care to get out of the way, and leave Mr. Funk and you to bear the brunt of any breach of neutrality that these conspirators might let you in for."

The sailors began to whisper to one another, and were evidently uneasy.

"Then look at the captain's parting words!" cried the journalist. "'Go out into the Solent,' says he, 'and the _Bishop_ will give you your sailing orders,' Sailing orders, indeed! What would a parson know about sailing a vessel of this sort?"

One of the men nudged another at this, and he of the gruff voice gave it as his opinion that "there was summat in it."

"I'll tell you what the sailing orders will be," shouted Marchmont.

"They'll take you round the Needles, and alongside of a Spanish cruiser.

And when you get ash.o.r.e, you'll all be clapped into prison for helping the Dons."

"Let's take 'em back now," came a chorus of voices.

"And let 'em go scot-free?" demanded Marchmont.

"Well, what would _you_ do?" asked the spokesman.

"I?" said the journalist. "I'd hand 'em over to the first American ship we sight, and send 'em to New York. That takes the burden off _your_ shoulders. My man has promised you ten shillings apiece. Put 'em on board a Yankee ship, and I'll make it a pound." And he brought up a handful of gold from his pocket, and jingled it in their faces.

It has been said that money talks, and it undoubtedly did so in this case. Marchmont's specious arguments sounded plausible enough, and the mate, who was a thoroughly bad lot and had plenty of the journalist's money in his pocket, backed him up in every particular. So the crew, after a little discussion, accepted the proposition to a man, and the fact that the Bishop chose this unfortunate time to make an attack on the cabin door probably helped to decide them.

"You see," cried the journalist, as it rattled on its hinges, "they're trying to break out now, and are probably armed to the teeth."

"We're with you, mates. The Yankees shall have 'em!" shouted the crowd.

"Good!" he replied. "I'll see if I can induce them to surrender quietly." And going to the cabin door, he unlocked it and entered, closing it behind him.

"Who has dared to lock us in in this unwarrantable manner?" spluttered the Bishop, as the door opened. Then, seeing who it was, he fell back a step, exclaiming:

"Why, Mr. Marchmont, how did you come on board?"

"Never mind about that," said the journalist shortly. "I'm here, and I locked you in; and when I tell you that I'm thoroughly on to the whole show, you'll understand that this high-and-mighty business doesn't go down. Got any champagne left? I'm as dry as a bone."

The Bishop was rapidly turning purple with suppressed indignation, but Miss Arminster scornfully indicated the location of the wine-cooler.

"Ah, thanks," said the intruder, tossing off a gla.s.s. "That's better."

And he threw himself comfortably down on a divan, saying, as he did so:

"If you two have any weapons, you might as well put them on the table.

Resistance is quite useless. I've plenty of men awaiting my signal on deck."

Violet, who in the light of this last remark suddenly understood the position, burst into peals of laughter.

"You'll find it's no laughing matter," cried the journalist angrily.

"I insist upon your instantly explaining your outrageous conduct," said the Bishop.

"I can do that in a very few words," replied Marchmont. "As an American representative, and authorised agent of the _Daily Leader_, the people's bulwark of defence, I arrest you both as Spanish spies."

"He must be mad!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed his Lordship.