The two newcomers turned towards the couch and exchanged amazed greetings with Julian. Fenn threw his mask on to the table with an uneasy laugh.
“Miss Abbeway,” he protested, “is inclined to be melodramatic. The gas which Bright has in that cylinder is simply one which would produce a little temporary unconsciousness. We might have used it--we may still use it--but if you others are able to persuade Mr. Orden to restore the packet, our task with him is at an end. We are not his gaolers--or perhaps he would say his torturers--for pleasure. The Council has ordered that we should extort from him the papers you know of and has given us carte blanche as to the means. If you others can persuade him to restore them peaceably, why, do it. We are prepared to wait.”
Julian was still staring from one to the other of his visitors. His expression of blank astonishment had scarcely decreased.
“Bishop,” he said at last, “unless you want to see me go insane before your eyes, please explain. It can’t be possible that you have anything in common with this nest of conspirators.”
The Bishop smiled a little wanly. He laid his hand upon his godson’s shoulder.
“Believe me, I have been no party to your incarceration, Julian,”, he declared, “but if you will listen to me, I will tell you why I think it would be better for you to restore that packet to Miss Abbeway:”
“Tell that blackguard to give me another sniff of his restorative gas,” Julian begged. “These shocks are almost too much for me.”
The Bishop turned interrogatively towards Bright, who once more leaned over Julian with the tube in his hand. Again the little mist, the pungent odour. Julian rose to his feet and sat down again.
“First of all,” began the Bishop earnestly, as he seated himself at the end of the couch on which Julian had been lying, “let me try to remove some of your misconceptions. Miss Abbeway is in no sense of the word a German spy. She and I, Mr. Furley here, Mr. Fenn and Mr. Bright, all belong to an organisation leagued together for one purpose--we are determined to end the war.”
“An idle word,” the Bishop protested, “because at heart we are all pacifists. There is not one of us who would wilfully choose war instead of peace. The only question is the price we are prepared to pay.”