I do not know how long I had been traveling, whether five minutes or twenty, nor whether I walked or ran. I became conscious of a soft whistling in the air, and, glancing up, saw a dark airplane, black against the risen moon. I sprang from the road and hid myself in the underbrush. The airplane dipped, passed me, and dipped again, with the purpose, evidently, of alighting in the road. It passed beyond my sight, flying low, and veering from side to side as its occupant examined the ground for a resting place. As I rose to continue my journey I heard a low hail among the trees. I started around, to see the old bishop approaching me at a jog-trot. He came up panting, and stood before me, holding his pastoral staff against his breast. “Did you see the airplane?” he asked, following the road with his eyes. “What are you doing here, Bishop Alfred?” I asked in astonishment, for there was an expression of supreme, benignant happiness upon his face. “Are you alone?” “Yes, alone,” he answered, smiling. “I left them quietly. They would not have let me go. I followed you until I saw the airplane. I am going to Lembken in your place.” “But you will be put to death!” I cried. “Surely, you know—” “Yes, but that is all right,” he answered. “It is three years now since any priest was burned for the faith. I have been thinking about it for a long time. Now I am ready. I am going into the People’s House to preach the Gospel. I—I ran away from David,” he added, chuckling at the success of his maneuver. I threatened and pleaded in vain, for the old man’s face had the joyousness of a child’s. “It’s no use talking, Arnold,” he said, patting my arm affectionately. “I am a stubborn man when my mind is made up, and it is made up now. I have thought about it a long time. You see, I am the last bishop in England. I am not a learned man, but the Lord Bishop of London”—how happily he said that!—“laid hands on me an hour before they burned him in Westminster Hall. Now it is right that I should follow him and take on martyrdom. It will give inspiration to the people. It will be a wonderful encouragement to them to see me among the fagots. I have prayed the Lord to give me strength, because I am a cowardly old man, and He has done so. I should like to consecrate my successor before I die. But the Russians will take care of that, and it is fitter that they should renew the line in England. They will be here in a few days to save the world, and then we shall all be one.” “How do you know?” I cried. “It is given to me to know,” he answered, wagging his white head. “So there is no longer any reason why I should not go into the People’s House and bear testimony to the truth. You can go back now. I will carry your message to Lembken before I die.” Before I could restrain him he had started off along the road, and his quick jog-trot gave him almost as much speed as my scrambling, wild pursuit. I caught him, however, a hundred yards away.