'What do I care, sir,' she asked, interrupting again, 'whether your beds are made or not? I shall stay here,' She withdrew a little nearer to the wall beside my window, so as to be outside the throng of people. 'We can talk, I suppose, undisturbed, and unheard, though, so far as I care, all the world may hear. Bless me! The people look as if a woman was a rare object here.' She looked round at the crowd. 'Yet there are women among your prisoners. Well, then, what have you got to say? Speak up, and quickly, because I like not the place or the company. You wrote to me. Now go on.' 'I wrote to you,' said the Bishop, 'asking a great favour. I know that we have no reason to expect that or any other favour from you.' 'You have no reason. But go on.' 'We came here, you know'--his voice dropped to a whisper, but I heard what he said--'in order to escape a great danger.' 'I heard. You told me. The danger was in connection with a gentleman and a post-chaise.' 'A villainous charge,' said the Captain. 'Villainous indeed,' repeated the Bishop. 'I could prove to you in five minutes and quite to your satisfaction that the Captain was engaged at Newmarket on the day in question, while I myself was conducting a funeral in place of the Vicar in a country village thirty miles on the other side of London.' 'An excellent defence, truly. But I will leave that to the lawyers. Well, the debt was sworn against you by Mr. Merridew.' I pricked up my ears at this because this was the name of the man, as you shall hear, who swore a debt which never existed against me. Could there be two Merridews? 'That was mere form. Unfortunately other detainers are out against both of us. I know not how they found out that we were here. Mr. Merridew refuses to take us out. He says that he thinks our time is up, and so he knows that we are safe.' He shuddered. Afterwards I understood why. 'There is the danger that we may have to remain here till he takes us out. As for our present necessities--' He drew out his purse and dangled it--a long purse with a very few guineas in it. 'You see, Madam, to stay here, where there is no opportunity of honest work, is ruin and starvation.' 'Honest work! Why, if you go out, you will only continue in your old courses.' 'They are at least honest and even pious courses,' said the Bishop with a snuffle. 'As you please. But there is still the former danger.' 'No. The gentleman understands now that he only mislaid his pocket-book. Mr. Merridew found it for him. The drafts and notes were still in it, fortunately. The gentleman has redeemed the papers from Mr. Merridew. He will not take any further steps.' 'If I take you out,' she spoke to the Captain, 'you know what will happen. Better stay here in safety.' 'What else can a man do?' asked the Captain. 'You might go abroad; go to America--anything is better than the Road and the certain end.' She made a gesture with her hand, easy to be understood.