Mark had scarcely sat down before the Bishop turned to the congregation and began to speak.  His words were addressed entirely to the children.  He told them in simple language, which Mark found himself admiring, the meaning and importance of the ceremony, sketching the apostolic origin of Confirmation, and dwelling upon its strengthening spiritual effects.

The Bishop was young, too young, Mark thought, since he was not yet forty.  His hair was still black, and his cheeks ruddy.  He was quite a contrast to Father Murray who sat near by.  Mark noticed that the pastor did not wear the manteletta of a prelate, but only the surplice of a simple priest.  There were two other priests in the sanctuary, both young, one probably the Bishop’s secretary.

The Bishop allowed his gaze to wander over the congregation as he spoke with a rich, clear voice, and with growing eloquence.  The children had fixed their wondering eyes on his impressive figure, as he stood before them, crozier in hand and mitre on head.  Mark found that he was growing more attentive, and liking the Bishop even better as the sermon went on.  More than that, he found himself interested in the doctrine of Confirmation, a ceremony which but a few months before he would have thought quite meaningless.  He watched the Bishop and listened as closely as did the children.

In the very midst of a sentence Mark saw a startled look on the face of the preacher, a quickly suppressed look that told of great surprise.  The Bishop saved himself from breaking the current of his speech, but so plainly did Mark notice the instance that his mind jumped at once to the conclusion that the Bishop had seen in the congregation somebody he had not expected in that place and at that time.  Instinctively Mark’s gaze followed the Bishop’s.  Across the aisle, and in a direct line with himself, sat Ruth, veiled as usual, and Madame Neuville.  For an instant only the Bishop’s glance rested on the veiled girl; then he turned again to the children.  But the sermon had been spoiled for Mark.  The uneasiness was coming over him again.  What did the Bishop know?  Mark could not help thinking that somehow the incident was a proof that the detective had told the truth.

The sermon over, the Bishop’s attendant came up to him, while Father Murray went to marshal his little charges up to the foot of the altar.  As the Bishop was about to sit down on the faldstool, Mark saw him whisper to the young priest beside him, the one Mark thought to be the secretary.  He was a well trained secretary, for he made no sign; but Mark watched him as he calmly turned around to face the congregation.  His searching glance swept the church until it rested upon the girl with the veil.  He, too, seemed startled, but gave scarcely a sign as he turned quickly away.  When the ceremony had ended Mark left his pew, looking straight at Ruth as he turned to face the door.  He imagined that