'If a man has a long rope, what else can he expect?' 'And you?' she turned to the Bishop, 'what will become of you? Will you stay in London where you are known in every street?' 'I have had thoughts of trying Ireland. A good many things can be done in Ireland. The Irish are a confiding people.' 'Do what you please. It is nothing to me what becomes of both of you. I interfere because--oh! you know why. And as for your future--that, I suppose, will be arranged for you by your friend Mr. Merridew. Putting together what my friend the starveling poet told me and what they themselves confessed, they were clearly a pair of rogues, and she knew it, and she was going to help them. Charity covereth a multitude of sins. Yet, surely, it was remarkable that a gentlewoman should come to the King's Bench Prison in order to send two abominable criminals back to their old haunts. 'Any place is better than this,' said the Captain. 'Much better than this,' echoed the Bishop. 'Give me freedom while I live. A short life--' but he was certainly past forty--'and a free life, for me.' 'How much is it, then, altogether, for the pair of you?' 'The detainers, not counting Mr. Merridew's, amount to close upon seventy pounds. Then there are the costs and the fees.' 'Oh!' she cried impatiently, 'what is the good of setting you loose again? Why should I let loose upon the world such a pair of rogues? Why not keep you here so that you may at least die in your beds?' The Bishop looked astonished at this outburst. 'Why,' he said, slowly, 'we are what we are. That is true. What else can we be? Nobody knows better than you what we are. Come, now, nobody, I say, knows better than you what we are.' 'Yes,' she replied with a sigh. 'I do know very well--I wish I did not.' And nobody knows better than you,' he went on, roughly, 'that what we are we must continue to be. What else can we do?' 'Say no more,' she replied, sighing again. 'There is no help, I suppose. When I made up my mind to come here at all, I made up my mind that I would take you out--both of you. Yet--it is like walking over a grave, I shiver'--she did actually shiver as she spoke. 'I feel as if I were contriving a mischief for myself. These signs always come true--a mischief,' she repeated, 'to myself'--indeed she was, as you shall afterwards learn. 'As for the world you will certainly do as much mischief to that as you can.' 'As we can, Madam,' said the Bishop with a smile--he was easy now that he knew her mind. Before, he was inclined to be rough. 'The world, on the other hand, is always trying to do a mischief to me.' 'But mischief to you, Madam?' cried the captain, that mirror of gallantry. 'A soldier is all gratitude and honour. Mischief to you? Impossible!' 'And a Divine,' added the other with a grin, 'is all truth, fidelity, and honesty. His profession compels these qualities.'