the return of the dead. But nothing had
come of it as yet; if there was a sensation in store for the literary
world, Mabel's letters apparently contained no hint of it, and for a
time Caffyn felt unpleasantly apprehensive that there might have been
a hitch somehow in his admirable arrangements. Then he reflected that
Mabel would naturally spare her mother as long as possible; he would
not believe that after all the trouble he had taken, after Holroyd had
actually hunted down the culprit, the secret could have been kept from
her any longer. No, she must know the real truth, though she might be
proud enough to mask her sufferings while she could. But still he
longed for some visible assurance that his revenge had not
unaccountably failed; and, as he had ascertained that they were to
return on this particular evening, and were not to be met except by
the Langton carriage, it occurred to him that here would be an
excellent opportunity of observing Mabel at a time when she would not
imagine it necessary to wear a mask. He would take care to remain
unseen himself; a single glance would tell him all he needed to know,
and he promised himself enjoyment of a refined and spiritual kind in
reading the effects of his revenge on the vivid face he had loved
once, and hated now with such malignant intensity. The train came in
with a fringe of expectant porters hanging on the footboards, and as
the doors flew open to discharge a crowd, flurried but energetic, like
stirred ants, even Caffyn's well-regulated pulse beat faster.

He had noticed Champion waiting on the platform and kept his eye upon
him in the bustle that followed; he was going up to a compartment
now--that must be Mark he was touching his hat to as he received
directions; Caffyn could not see Mark's face yet as his back was
towards him, but he could see Mabel's as she stepped lightly out on
the platform--there was a bright smile on her face as she acknowledged
the footman's salute, and seemed to be asking eager questions. Caffyn
felt uncomfortable, for there was nothing forced about her smile, no
constraint in her eyes as she turned to Mark when they were alone
again, and seemed to be expressing her eager delight at being home
again. And Mark, too, had the face of a man without a care in the
world--something must have gone wrong, terribly wrong, it was clear!
They were coming towards him; he had meant to avoid them at first, but
now his curiosity would not allow this, and