Miss Collingwood laughed aloud. She and the Bishop seemed to be the only persons present who were enjoying themselves. Outside, the machine that had brought Zaliska had backed noisily off the steps and was now retreating. “Oh, cheer up, everybody!” said Zaliska, helping herself to a chair. “My machine’s gone back to town; but I only brought a suitcase, so I can’t stay forever. By the way, you might bring it in, Harold,” she remarked to Coningsby with a yawn. Mrs. Banning alone seemed willing to cope with her. “If you are as French as you look, mademoiselle, I suppose----” “French, ha! Not to say aha! I sound like a toothpaste all right, but I was born in good old Urbana, Ohio. Your face registers sorrow and distress, madam. Kindly smile, if you please!” “No impertinence, young woman! It may interest you to know that the courts haven’t yet freed me of the ties that bind me to Tracy Banning, and until I get my decree he is still my husband. If that has entered into your frivolous head kindly tell me who invited you to this house.” The girl pouted, opened her vanity box, and slowly drew out a crumpled bit of yellow paper, which she extended toward her inquisitor with the tips of her fingers. “This message,” Mrs. Banning announced, “was sent from Berkville Tuesday night.” And then her face paled. “Incredible!” she breathed heavily. Gadsby caught the telegram as it fluttered from her hand. “Read it!” commanded Miss Collingwood. “MADEMOISELLE HELENE ZALISKA, New Rochelle, N. Y. Everything arranged. Meet me at Senator Banning’s country home, Corydon, Massachusetts, Thursday evening at eight. ALEMBERT GIDDINGS, _Bishop of Tuscarora._” The Bishop snatched the telegram from Gadsby and verified the detective’s reading with unfeigned astonishment. The reading of this message evoked another outburst of merriment from Miss Collingwood. “Zaliska,” fluted young Coningsby, “how dare you!” “Oh, I never take a dare,” said Zaliska. “I guessed it was one of your jokes; and I always thought it would be real sporty to be married by a bishop.” “Yes,” said Miss Collingwood frigidly, “I suppose you’ve tried everything else!” The Bishop met Mrs. Banning’s demand that he explain himself with all the gravity his good-natured countenance could assume. “It’s too deep for me. I give it up!” he said. He crossed to Zaliska and took her hand. “My dear young woman, I apologize as sincerely as though I were the guilty man. I never heard of you before in my life; and I wasn’t anywhere near Berkville day before yesterday. The receipt of my own telegram in New Hampshire at approximately the same hour proves that irrefutably.” “Oh, that’ll be all right, Bishop,” said Zaliska. “I’m just as pleased as though you really sent it.” Miss Collingwood had lighted her pipe--a performance that drew from Zaliska an astonished: