oner or later--if not from
you, from _him_? As to forcing my wife to receive you as a friend, I'm
not quite rascal enough for that yet. Do whatever you please!'

It was despair more than anything that drove him to defiance, for his
knowledge of Mabel showed him that the bargain proposed, apart from
its rascality, was an impossible one.

'Well,' said Caffyn, with a shrug, 'you leave me no choice, so in the
course of a day or two, my friend, look out for squally weather!
Whether I sink or swim myself, I shall see _you_ go to the bottom!'

Mr. Featherstone, who was getting slightly tired of the enthusiastic
young amateurs at his end of the table, here suggested an adjournment
to the music-room.

'You'll come and look on, sir, won't you?' said his son.

But the merchant shook his head.

'I think I can hold on till the night itself, Bertie, my boy!' with a
cleverly fielded yawn. 'I hear all about it from your mother. You'll
find me in the billiard-room if you want me, you know!'

Mark rose from the table to which he had sat down with so light a
heart. Black disgrace was before him, the Laufingen crisis had come
again, and this time nothing could save him. He lingered behind the
other men as they mounted the broad staircase, and as he lingered was
overtaken by Vincent, who had just left his hat and overcoat below,
and was about to go upstairs.

'Stop!' cried Mark. 'Don't go up yet, I want to speak to you. Come in
here!' and he almost forced him into the library, which was empty, and
where a lamp was burning.

'So we're on a level after all, are we?' he said savagely, as he shut
the door.

Holroyd simply asked him what he meant.

'You know!' said Mark. 'All that generosity at Laufingen was a sham,
was it--a blind? It didn't suit you that I should give myself up of my
own free will, and so soon, so you put me off my guard! And now'--his
voice was thick with passion as he spoke--'now you have set that
villain, that d----d Caffyn, on me! Chivalrous that, isn't it? I've
fallen into good hands between you!'

Vincent was hardly less angry. 'You think every one is like yourself!'
he said. 'If it is any comfort to you to believe that I can break my
word and betray those who trusted it, believe it--it's not worth my
while to set you right?'

No one who saw his face could doubt that he, at least, was no traitor;
and Mark felt lower than ever as he realised his mistake.

'Forgive me!' he stammered. 'I see, I ought to ha