"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.