"Of course," said Bradstock. "Let us imagine that Lincoln is nearly as far from where she is as Spilsborough is." "Let us imagine it," said Bradstock. "I am willing to imagine it." "What conclusion do you draw?" asked the bishop. Bradstock shook his head. "Really, Bradstock," said the bishop, "I am surprised at you. If she is between Spalding and Lough, as I’m sure she is, an equal distance from her to Lincoln and from her to Spilsborough would place her about Boston, or perhaps farther north. Now, if on inquiry we find she is not near Boston, she must be near a decent road fit for motor-cars to Lincoln. Do you follow me?" "I do," said Bradstock. "Then if she is not near Boston, where is she?" Bradstock studied the map. "I should say Burgh, or Warnfleet, or Spilsby." "Right," said the bishop. "I am almost sure of it. For if she had been farther north, she would not have chosen Spilsborough to telegraph from in the first instance. What do you say to that?" "I say that I am not surprised that you are a bishop, though I may wonder why you are in the Church," said Bradstock. "What do you mean by that, Bradstock?" asked his lordship. "Nothing, nothing at all," replied Bradstock, hastily. "I agree with you. What shall we do?" The bishop eyed him a little doubtfully, but returned to his muttons. "I want to bowl out Bob," he said. "A bishop is a human being, after all," thought Bradstock. "He might have reasoned with me," said the bishop. "I am quite free the day after to-morrow, and we will go to Boston and make inquiries. If they fail, we will try Warnfleet and Spilsby and Burgh." "We will," said Bradstock. "I think this idea of yours exceedingly clever, bishop." "You do?" "Certain, I do." "I forgive your recent gibe," said the bishop. "It was clearer than quaternions to me, and much clearer than Bob’s rudeness, which I continue to find inexplicable. And now I think the duchess should be informed of his telegram. It will console her, I am sure, to learn that this fatherless infant is not black." "Not very black," insisted Bradstock. And the bishop sent a wire to Titania, saying that Bob had disappeared into space, but had telegraphed saying that he had found Penelope with a normal infant. "After all, he only said it wasn’t black," sighed Bradstock. But the bishop would not listen to him. So he went out and sent a wire to Titania himself. "I should like to make Bob black and blue," the bishop said. For his legs still ached. *CHAPTER XXIII.* Next morning the bishop had an hysteric telegram from Titania. It was obscure and of great length: