his mind that this might be the
best solution of the difficulty--he had only to keep silent for a few
seconds. Was it certain even now that he could prevent this
self-destruction if he would? But such inhumanity was impossible to
him. Instinctively he rushed forward out of the shadow and, seizing
Mark by the arm as he sprang upon the parapet, dragged him roughly
back. 'You coward!' he cried, 'you fool! This is the way you keep your
appointment, is it? You can do that afterwards if you like--just now
you will come with me.'

Tragic as a rash act, such as Mark was contemplating, is when
successful, an interruption brings with it an inevitable bathos; when
he first felt that grasp on his arm, he thought himself in the power
of a German policeman, and, prepared as he was a moment before to face
a sudden death, he quailed before the prospect of some degrading and
complicated official process; it was almost a relief to see instead
his bitterest enemy!

He made no attempt at resistance or escape--perhaps life seemed more
tolerable after all now he had been brought back to it; he went meekly
back with Vincent, who still held his arm firmly, and they reached the
Laufenplatz without another word.

The little terrace above the Rhine was almost dark, the only light
came in a reflected form from a street lamp round the corner, and they
had to pick their way round the octagonal stone fountain and between
the big iron salmon cages, to some seats under the five bare elms by
the railings. There Vincent sat down to recover breath, for the scene
he had just gone through was beginning to tell upon him, and he was
overcome by a feeling of faintness which made him unable to speak for
some moments. Meanwhile Mark stood opposite by the railings waiting
sullenly, until Vincent rose at last and came to his side; he spoke
low and with difficulty, but, in spite of the torrent roaring over the
rocks below, Mark heard every word.

'I suppose,' Vincent began, 'I need not tell you why I wished to see
you?'

'No,' said Mark; 'I know.'

'From your manner on the bridge just now,' continued Holroyd,
relentlessly, 'it looked almost as if you wished to avoid a
meeting--why should you? I told you I wished my authorship to be kept
a secret, and you sheltered it with your own name. Very few friends
would have done that!'

'You have the right to indulge in this kind of pleasantry,' said the
tortured Mark; 'I know that--only be moderate if you can. Cu