"Yes, yes, oh, yes, I know it. But that was when your arrest was certain. But now--listen." Dan felt as if his father had struck him across the face. "That was what the Deemster said," he began; "but it is wrong." "Listen--they have nothing against you. I know all. They can not convict you save on your own confession. And why should you confess?" "Why?" "Don't speak--don't explain--I must not hear you--listen!" and the old man put one arm on his son's shoulder and his mouth to his ear. "There is only one bit of tangible evidence against you, and it is here; look!" and he lifted before Dan's face the parcel he carried in his other trembling hand. Then down he went on one knee, put the parcel on the floor, and unclasped the strap. The parcel fell open. It contained a coat, a hat, two militia daggers, and a large heavy stone. "Look!" the Bishop whispered again, in a note of triumph, and as he spoke a grin of delight was struck out of his saintly old face. Dan shuddered at the sight. "Where did you get them?" he asked. The Bishop gave a little grating laugh. "They were brought me by some of my good people," he answered. "Oh, yes, good people, all of them; and they will not tell. Oh, no, they have promised me to be silent." "Promised you?" "Yes--listen again. Last night--it was dark, I think it must have been past midnight--I went to all their houses. They were in bed, but I knocked, and they came down to me. Yes, they gave me their word--on the Book they gave it. Good people, all--Jabez the tailor, Stean the cobbler, Juan of Ballacry, and Thormod in the Street. I remember every man of them." "Father, do you say you went to these people--these, the very riff-raff of the island--you went to them--you, and at midnight--and begged them--" "Hush, it is nothing. Why not? But this is important." The Bishop, who was still on his knees, was buckling up the parcel again. "You can sink it in the sea. Did you mark the stone? That will carry it to the bottom. And when you are in the boat it will be easy to drop everything overboard." "The boat?" "Ah! have I not told you? Thormod Mylechreest--you remember him? A good man, Thormod--a tender heart, too, and wronged by his father, poor misguided man. Well, Mylechreest has promised--I have just left him--to come down to the harbor at nine to-night, and take the fishing-smack, the 'Ben-my-Chree,' and bring her round to the west coast of St. Patrick's Islet, and cast anchor there, and then come ashore in the boat, and wait for you." "Wait for me, father?" "Yes; for this prison is mine, and I shall open its doors to whomsoever it pleases me to liberate. Look!" The Bishop rose to his full height, threw back his head, and with a feeble show of his wonted dignity strode to the door of the cell and cried, in a poor, stifled echo of his accustomed strong tone, "Paton Gorry, open thou this door." Old Gorry answered from without, and presently the door was opened. "Wider." The door was thrown wide.