et
the exact time we arrive by inquiring at the P. and O.
offices in Leadenhall Street. We shall meet so soon now
that I need write no more. As it is there is another
letter I must write--if I can, for you would hardly
believe how difficult I find it to write at all in my
present state, though a sea voyage will set me up
again.'

The letter ended rather abruptly, the writing becoming almost
illegible towards the close, as if the writer's strength had gradually
failed him. Mark came to the end with a feeling that was almost
relief; his chief dread had been to hear that he was found out, and
that his exposure might be made public before he could make Mabel his
own. It was terrible to know that the man he had injured was alive,
but still it was something that he was still unaware of his injury; it
was a respite, and, to a man of Mark's temperament, that was much.
Even if Holroyd were strong enough to take his passage by the
'Coromandel,' he could hardly be in England for at least another
fortnight, and long before he arrived at Plymouth the wedding would
have taken place. And in a fortnight he might be able to hit upon
something to soften some of the worst aspects of his fraud; the change
in the title of the book, in the _nom de plume_, and even the
alterations of the text might be explained; but then there was that
fatal concession of allowing his real name to appear: it was, he knew,
to be placed on the title-page of the latest edition--would there be
time to suppress that? This occurred to him but vaguely, for it seemed
just then as if, when Mabel were once his wife, no calamity could have
power to harm him, and now nothing Holroyd could do would prevent the
marriage. After that the Deluge!

So he was almost his usual self as he rose and came towards Caffyn;
his hand, however, still trembled a little, causing him to bungle in
replacing the letter and drop the envelope, which the other
obligingly picked up and restored to him.

'Ashburn, my dear fellow,' he began, as they walked on together, 'I
hope you won't think me impertinent, but I couldn't help seeing the
writing on that envelope, and it seems to me I knew it once, and
yet--do you mind telling me if it's from any one I know?'

Mark would of course have preferred to say nothing, but it seemed best
on the whole to avoid suspicion by telling the truth. Caffyn, as a
friend of Vincent's, would hear it before long; it might look odd if