than usual next day, ignoring occasional noises at his door, the
consequence being that, when he came down to breakfast, it was only to
find a note from Vincent on his plate: 'I find myself obliged to go to
town at once on important business,' he had written. 'I tried to wake
you and explain matters, but could not make you hear. I would not go
off in this way if I could help it; but I don't suppose you will very
much mind.'

Caffyn felt a keen disappointment, for he had been looking forward to
the pleasure of observing the way in which Vincent would take the
discovery; but he consoled himself: 'After all, it doesn't matter,' he
thought; 'there's only one thing that could start him off like that!
What he doesn't know he'll pick up as he goes on. When he knows all,
what will he do? Shouldn't wonder if he went straight for Mark. Somehow
I'm rather sorry for that poor devil of a Mark--he did me a bad turn
once, but I've really almost forgiven him, and--but for Mabel--I think
I should have shipped dear Vincent off in perfect ignorance--dear
Vincent did bore me so! But I want to be quits with charming, scornful
Mabel, and, when she discovers that she's tied for life to a sham, I do
think it will make her slightly uncomfortable--especially if I can tell
her she's indebted to me for it all! Well, in a day or two there will
be an excellent performance of the cottage-act from the "Lady of Lyons"
over there, and I only wish I could have got a seat for it. She'll be
magnificent. I do pity that miserable beggar, upon my soul, I do--it's
some comfort to think that I never did him any harm; he lost me
Mabel--and I kept him from losing her. I can tell him that if he
tries any reproaches!'

Meanwhile Vincent was spinning along in the dog-cart on his way to
Drigg. There had been a fall of snow during the night, and the
mountains across the lake seemed grander and more awful, their rugged
points showing sharp and black against the blue-tinted snow which lay
in the drifts and hollows, and their peaks rising in glittering silver
against a pale-blue sky. The air was keen and bracing, and his spirits
rose as they drove past the grey-green lake, and through the
plantations of bright young larches and sombre fir. He arrived at
Drigg in good time for the London train, and, as soon as it stopped at
a station of importance, seized the opportunity of procuring a copy of
'Illusion' (one of the earlier editions), which he was fortunate
enough to f