ll, and through the crowd Holroyd was slowly, steadily
making his way to her side, and Mark knew his object; it was to
denounce _him_. If he could only reach him first, he felt that somehow
he could prevent him from attaining his end, and he made frantic
efforts to do so; but always the crowd hedged him in and blocked his
way with a stupid impassibility, and he struggled madly, but all in
vain. Holroyd drew nearer and nearer Mabel, with that stern set
purpose in his face, while Mark himself was powerless to move or
speak. And so the dream dragged itself on all through the night.

He had some thoughts, on waking, of setting his fears to rest for ever
by making some further inquiries, but when he read once more the
various accounts he had preserved of the shipwreck, he convinced
himself willingly enough that nothing of the kind was necessary. He
could dismiss the matter from his mind once for all, and by
breakfast-time he was himself again.

Caffyn, now that his wildest hopes of revenge were realised, and he
saw himself in a position to make terrible reprisals for the injury
Mark Ashburn had done him, revelled in a delicious sense of power, the
only drawback to his complete enjoyment of the situation being his
uncertainty as to the precise way of turning his knowledge to the best
account.

Should he turn upon Mark suddenly with the intimation that he had
found him out, without mentioning as yet that Holroyd was in the land
of the living? There would be exquisite pleasure in that, and what a
field for the utmost ingenuity of malice in constant reminders of the
hold he possessed, in veiled threats, and vague mocking promises of
secrecy! Could any enemy desire a more poignant retribution? He longed
to do all this, and no one could have done it better; but he was
habitually inclined to mistrust his first impulses, and he feared lest
his victim might grow weary of writhing; he might be driven to
despair, to premature confession, flight--suicide, perhaps. He was
just the man to die by his own hand and leave a letter cursing him as
his torturer, to be read at the inquest and get into all the papers.
No, he would not go too far; for the present he decided to leave Mark
in happy ignorance of the ruin tottering above him. He would wait
until he was even more prosperous, more celebrated, before taking any
decisive steps. There was little fear that he would see his revenge
some day, and meanwhile he must be content with such satis