His lordship the bishop and Lord Bradstock were both cross. They had drawn Boston blank, and found it too late and too hot to go on to Spilsby and Waynfleet and Burgh. "Well," said the bishop, "we have proved a certain amount. She isn’t at Boston." "Nor at Windsor or Manchester or Bristol or Plymouth," said Bradstock, whose temper was rapidly going. "I am surprised at you," said the bishop, who felt it necessary not to be cross when Bradstock was. "We have also proved that a yellow car comes through here very often, mostly without disastrous results. She is farther north. We will go to Spilsby to-morrow, I think." "I think I will stay at home," replied Bradstock, "or at your place, and I’ll read theology." The bishop raised his eyebrows. "It will do you good, if you can understand it," he said, a little tartly. "I do not expect to understand it," said Bradstock. "Then why read it?" "Only to see if the theologians understand it," replied Bradstock. It was quite evident that events were proving too much for Bradstock. It was also evident that Bradstock was proving too much for the bishop. "As a layman, you had better stick to Paley," said the bishop, tartly. "But let us return to Spilsborough. I own my temper is a little touchy to-day, Bradstock." Bradstock’s heart softened. "Bishop, I apologize for touching it," he said. "Penelope is rather too much for me." "She is too much for all of us, I fear," said the bishop. They took the train for home, and, as they moved out of the station, a man in the waterproof clothing of a chauffeur came on the platform. He was not wearing goggles. "Bishop," said Bradstock, "that man is Geordie Smith." "Do you think he saw us?" "How do I know?" "I didn’t ask how you could know. I only asked what your opinion was," said the bishop. "My opinion is worthless," said Bradstock. "Dear me!" said the bishop, blandly. *CHAPTER XXIV.*