by A. E. W. Mason and Andrew Lang

“ When you were carried hither in your chair, you knew nothing. George, what did the Bishop tell you? Why was he wroth with you? In brief, George, what do you know?'
'The Bishop angry with me! Nick, you know too much. You are the devil.'
'I want to know a great deal more. Come, unpack, and then it is my turn. But first step into Mr. Wesley's bedchamber and wash these hands, which go very ill with silver shoulder-knots; and pour the blackened water out of window. Any man or messenger could see that you have been burning a mort of papers.'
Mr. Kelly hastily adopted Mr. Wogan's precautions. ”

“ Wogan leaned his elbows on the table, and bent across towards his friend.
'I am sorry because the last secret has been sold, and it was not Mar that sold it. Therefore somebody else sold it; therefore I am at the pain of being obliged to suspect a lady who probably knows her late lover's cypher.'
Mr. Kelly blanched.
'And how do you know that the last secret is sold?'
'As any man would know who had not lain abed all the day. George, the Park is full of soldiers. ”

“ All this while Wogan had said not one word to Kelly, nor Kelly to Wogan.
Mr. Wogan had sat down to sample the bottle, and Kelly stared at him.
'How did you make your way in here?' he asked at length.
'Old Jeffrey,' said Wogan airily. 'I drink Old Jeffrey's health, wherever he is.'
'I believe you are the devil himself. That password is known to no mortal but Mr. Wesley and me. The Bishop does not know it. His servants never see me come or go—only Sam. ”

“ Wogan, pointing to a verse. 'There's a text for the preacher.'
The Bible was open at the Book of Proverbs, and Mr. Wogan read. 'The lips of a strange woman drop as a honey-comb and her mouth is smoother than oil. But her end is bitter as wormwood, sharp as a two-edged sword. Her feet go down to death. Her steps take hold on hell.'
Mr. Wogan read the text aloud.
'The strange woman, Nick,' said Kelly, 'the strange woman,' and then in a fierce outburst, 'If I live the man who wrote that ballad shall rue it.'
'They give it to Lady Mary.'
'She never wrote it. Nick, who wrote the ballad? ”

“ Illington's. If these letters were opened in the post,—and the Bishop knows for certain that they were opened,—a blind man could see that Rochester and Illington are the same man, and own the same dog. The beast saved my life, but he has lost the Cause,' said Kelly with a sigh. 'Mar has sold us. It is known he holds a pension from the Elector. The Bishop knows it in a roundabout way, through Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, and so the Bishop and I have burned his papers in the brazier. Sam is interring their ashes in the garden.'
Mr. Wogan poured out another glass of Florence. ”

“ On the other hand, Wogan's fell, which Kelly no doubt remarked, for he continued eagerly, 'D'ye see, there is a chance still, for the Cause, for us, if the Blow be struck quickly. We must strike quickly. So may we retrieve Mar's treachery. The Bishop in his letter made excuses to the King for the delay of any blow. He is not in favour of anything immediate, and in the letters he made his disposition plain. ”

“ Wesley's pet knock, though, the sprite could not deliver. Mr. Wesley had a conceit that the goblin might be the ghost of some good fellow who died at Preston.
'He keeps his politics in the next world,' said Mr. Wogan.
'Wit might say much on that head, wisdom little,' whispered the usher, wagging his kind head. 'You have special business with Mr. Johnson?' he asked. 'He is with my Lord, hard by. The Bishop's voice was raised when Mr. ”

“ His father's house at Epworth, in the year 1716, had been troubled, it seems, by an honest goblin that always thumped and routed with a particular malevolence when the Elector was prayed for as 'the King.' Old Mr. ”