r
it--I don't see how I can help it.'

He was beginning to feel that this business of Holroyd's had given him
quite trouble enough.

'Now, Mr. Ashburn, as I said before, I should be the last man to
press you--but really, you know, _really_--this is a trifle absurd! I
think you might be a little more frank with me, I do indeed. There is
no reason why you should not trust me!'

Was this man tempting him, thought Mark. Could he be so anxious to
bring out this book that he was actually trying to induce him to
fabricate some story which would get over the difficulties that had
arisen?

As a mere matter of fact, it may be almost unnecessary to mention that
no such idea had occurred to worthy Mr. Fladgate, who, though he
certainly was anxious to secure the book if he could, by any
legitimate means, was anything but a publishing Mephistopheles. He had
an object, however, in making this last appeal for confidence, as will
appear immediately; but, innocent as it was, Mark's imagination
conjured up a bland demon tempting him to some act of unspeakable
perfidy; he trembled--but not with horror. 'What do you mean?' he
stammered.

Mr. Fladgate gave a glance of keen amusement at the pale troubled face
of the young man before him. 'What do I mean?' he repeated. 'Come,
I've known sensitive women try to conceal their identity, and even
their sex, from their own publishers; I've known men even persuade
themselves they didn't care for notoriety--but such a determined
instance of what I must take leave to call the literary ostrich I
don't think I ever _did_ meet before! I never met a writer so
desperately anxious to remain unknown that he would rather take his
manuscript back than risk his secret with his own publisher. But don't
you see that you have raised (I don't use the term in the least
offensively) the mask, so to speak--you should have sent somebody else
here to-day if you wished to keep me in the dark. I've not been in
business all these years, Mr. Ashburn, without gaining a little
experience. I think, I _do_ think, I am able to know an author when I
see him--we are all liable to error, but I am very much mistaken if
this Mr. Vincent Beauchamp (who was so unfortunately lost at sea) is
not to be recovered alive by a little judicious dredging. Do think if
you can't produce him; come, he's not in very deep water--bring him
up, Mr. Ashburn, bring him up!'

'You make this very difficult for me,' said Mark, in a low voice; he
k