It was the third Friday of March 1894 when the Right Reverend Mr Tunstall, Bishop of Westminster, sent a sealed letter to Baker Street by an under-secretary's hand at half past eight in the morning.
The matter was as private as such matters can be. A typewritten telegram, posted from a Westminster office at six o'clock on Thursday evening, demanded the sum of two hundred pounds, by Wednesday's post, against the threat of public exposure of a fifteen-year-old indiscretion in a colonial post - a matter the bishop had repented of, the Church had quietly settled, and the public had never heard of. The bishop had five days.
We walked across to the bishop's residence in Westminster. Across the bishop's mews stood a thin man in a worn grey ulster, the *Pall Mall Gazette* folded in his right pocket; he coughed once, deeply, into his sleeve, and was gone before our hansom drew up at the gate.
The bishop was a careful, sorrowful gentleman of sixty-five. He showed us the telegram, the threatening letter that had followed it by the noon-post, and the four people who had any business at the residence in the past fortnight.