“You and I, Bishop,” he said, “are pacifists in the broadest meaning of the word, but that does not mean that we may not sometimes have to use force to attain our object.  We have a department which alone is concerned with the dealing of such matters.  It is that department which has undertaken the forwarding and receipt of all communications between ourselves and our friends across the North Sea.  Its operations are entirely secret, even from the rest of the Council.  It will deal with Julian Orden.  It is best for you not to interfere, or even to have cognisance of what is going on.”

“I cannot agree,” the Bishop protested.  “An act of unchristian violence would be a flaw in the whole superstructure which we are trying to build up.”

“Let us discuss some other subject,” Fenn proposed.

“Pardon me,” was the firm reply.  “I have come here to discuss this one.”

Nicholas Fenn looked down at the table.  His expression was not altogether pleasant.

“Your position with us, sir,” he said, “although much appreciated, does not warrant your interference in executive details.”

“Nevertheless,” the Bishop insisted, “you must please treat me reasonably in this matter, Mr. Fenn.  Remember I am not altogether extinct as a force amongst your followers.  I have three mass meetings to address this week, and there is the sermon next Sunday at Westminster Abbey, at which it has been agreed that I shall strike the first note of warning.  I am a helper, I believe, worth considering, and there is no man amongst you who risks what I risk.”

“Exactly what are you asking from me?” Fenn demanded, after a moment’s deliberation.

“I wish to know the whereabouts and condition of Julian Orden.”

“The matter is one which is being dealt with by our secret service department,” Fenn replied, “but I see no reason why I should not give you all reasonable information.  The young man in question asked for trouble, and to a certain extent he has found it.”

“I understand,” the Bishop reminded his companion, “that he has very nearly, if not altogether, compromised himself in his efforts to shield Miss Abbeway.”

“That may be so,” Fenn admitted, “but it doesn’t alter the fact that he refuses to return to her the packet which she entrusted to his care.”

“And he is still obdurate?”

“Up to now, absolutely so.  Perhaps,” Fenn added, with a slightly malicious smile, “you would like to try what you can do with him yourself?”

The Bishop hesitated.

“Julian Orden,” he said, “is a young man of peculiarly stubborn type, but if I thought that my exhortations would be of any benefit, I would not shrink from trying them, whatever it might cost me.”

“Better have a try, then,” Fenn suggested.  “If we do not succeed within the next twenty-four hours, I shall give you an order to see him.  I don’t mind confessing,” he went on confidentially, “that the need for the production of that document is urgent, apart from the risk we run of having our plans forestalled if it should fall into the hands of the Government.”