Mr. Mulliner Stories · The Bishop’s Move (3/3)

“Eh?” said Augustine. “What astonishing occurrence?”

“As you are aware, Mulliner, last night, from motives which I can assure you were honourable and in accord with the truest spirit of sound Churchmanship, the Rev. Trevor Entwhistle and I were compelled to go out and paint old Fatty Hemel’s statue pink. Just now, in the headmaster’s study, a boy confessed that he had done it. That boy, Mulliner, was your brother.

“Oh yes?”

“It was you who, in order to save me, inspired him to that confession. Do not deny it, Mulliner.”

Augustine smiled an embarrassed smile.

“It was nothing, Bish, nothing at all.”

“I trust the matter did not involve you in any too great expense. From what I know of brothers, the lad was scarcely likely to have carried through this benevolent ruse for nothing.”

“Oh, just a couple of quid. He wanted three, but I beat him down. Preposterous, I mean to say,” said Augustine warmly. “Three quid for a perfectly simple, easy job like that? And so I told him.”

“It shall be returned to you, Mulliner.”

“No, no, Bish.”

“Yes, Mulliner, it shall be returned to you. I have not the sum on my person, but I will forward you a cheque to your new address, The Vicarage, Steeple Mummery, Hants.”

Augustine’s eyes filled with sudden tears. He grasped the other’s hand.

“Bish,” he said in a choking voice, “I don’t know how to thank you. But⁠—have you considered?”

“Considered?”

“The wife of thy bosom. Deuteronomy 13:6. What will she say when you tell her?”

The bishop’s eyes gleamed with a resolute light.

“Mulliner,” he said, “the point you raise had not escaped me. But I have the situation well in hand. A bird of the air shall carry the voice, and that which hath wings shall tell the matter. Ecclesiastes 10:20. I shall inform her of my decision on the long-distance telephone.”