bt that!' he said; 'why, Holroyd would have been
as glad as if he had written the book himself. If he could come back
to us again, you would see that I am right. What a meeting it would
be, if one could only bring it about!'

'It's no use talking like that,' said Mark rather sharply. 'Holroyd's
dead, poor fellow, at the bottom of the Indian Ocean somewhere. We
shall never meet again.'

'But,' said Caffyn, with his eyes greedily watching Mark's face, 'even
these things happen sometimes; he may come back to congratulate you
still.'

'How do you mean? He's drowned, I tell you ... the dead never come
back!'

'The _dead_ don't,' returned Caffyn significantly.

'Do you--you don't mean to tell me he's _alive_!'

'If I were to say _yes_?' said Caffyn, 'I wonder how you would take
it.'

If he had any doubts still remaining, the manner in which Mark
received these words removed them. He fell back in his seat with a
gasp and turned a ghastly lead colour; then, with an evident effort,
he leaned forward again, clutching the arms of the chair, and his
voice was hoarse and choked when he was able to make use of it. 'You
have heard something,' he said. 'What is it? Why can't you tell it?
Out with it, man! For God's sake, don't--don't play with me like
this!'

Caffyn felt a wild exultation he had the greatest difficulty in
repressing. He could not resist enjoying Mark's evident agony a little
longer. 'Don't excite yourself, my dear fellow,' he said calmly. 'I
oughtn't to have said anything about it.'

'I'm not excited,' said Mark; 'see--I'm quite cool ... tell me--all
you know. He--he's alive then ... you have heard from him? I--I can
bear it.'

'No, no,' said Caffyn; 'you're deceiving yourself. You mustn't let
yourself hope, Ashburn. I have never heard from him from that day to
this. You know yourself that he was not in any of the boats; there's
no real chance of his having survived.'

For it was not his policy to alarm Mark too far, and least of all to
show his hand so early. His experiment had been successful; he now
knew all he wanted, and was satisfied with that. Mark's face relaxed
into an expression of supreme relief; then it became suspicious again
as he asked, almost in a whisper, 'I thought that--but then, why did
you say all that about the dead--about coming back?'

'You mustn't be angry if I tell you. I didn't know you cared so much
about him, or I wouldn't have done it. You know what some literary
fellow--