"And not an hour after these had said they were married to Pen, this Weekes woman came in black and in a cab and said she must see granny. And granny saw her, and is now in fits, with the doctor feeling her pulse and giving her brandy. For Weekes was very solemn (I listened), and she said: ’Your Grace, I shall reveal the truth, which lies upon my bosom like a tombstone. Her ladyship treated me cruel, and gave me the sack moreover, and I’ve no call to be silent no more ’avin’ diskivered the truth.’ She talks like that. Weekes is an uneducated beast, and why Pen ever had her as a maid I can’t tell. And granny was confused with the others, having said they were all married to Pen, and she waggled her head awfully. ’I shall surprise your Grace,’ said Weekes, and granny said she wouldn’t. And she said, ’I shall surprise your Grace, for I’ve to reveal that I know the man, the serpent, that her ladyship ’as married.’ And granny smiled very curiously, and said, ’Weekes, who do you say it is?’ And then Weekes cried, the crocodile, and she said that Penelope had married Timothy Bunting, the groom, and that Timothy had been engaged to her, and had as good as told her that he was looking high and despised a public-house at a corner. I don’t know what she meant. And she was so solemn and furious that granny believed her, and went off into fit after fit most awful, my lord, and they sent for the doctor, and I came away, for I knew the others would fight when they learnt that all of them had said the same thing. And I believe it is Timothy myself." "Dear, dear me!" said the bishop, "this is even more remarkable than I anticipated from the very strange reports in the papers. But I think you have done well, Robert, and I do not regret having christened you by any means, which is more than I can say for some of the aristocracy. Let us return to the dean, who is, I am afraid, having some trouble with the French marquis. He is not accustomed to foreign noblemen and to Americans, except when they come here to see his cathedral." They turned toward the deanery, where Rivaulx was still rolling on the grass. "Do you think it is Timothy?" asked Bob. The bishop shook his head gently. "I do not see what grounds we have to go on, Robert. Here we have an American who states, if I understand you rightly, that he has married my poor Penelope, and a French marquis of high repute who also states the same. And there are others—" "Five or six!" said Bob.