ull investigation. Go, wherever you
will, among those who know me, and inquire into my character. Recall
everything that has occurred between us since the beginning of our
acquaintance. Ask your daughter if I have ever spoken a word to her, or
cast a look at her, which could justify these infamous insinuations.
Thus much I ask of you, in justice to me."

"And I refuse, sir," said the inventor. "I will not insult you by an
unworthy suspicion. The world is full of impertinent people, and we can
no more stop their gabble, than that of swallows in the air. This
nameless fellow signs himself 'One of Many,' That is probably a lie. But
if there were thousands like himself prying into your and my affairs, I
should not care. As for motives, none but fools and misanthropes trouble
themselves about _them_."

The inventor tossed off the last sentence contemptuously. But Marcus
knew that he did attach a great importance to motives; although he could
not fairly be ranked either among the misanthropes or the fools. He
therefore replied:

"The whole world is welcome to inquire into my motives. As I understand
them, they are: First, I take pleasure in your society, sir, because,
like myself, you are a quiet, thinking man. Second, you have a
hobby--your machine, there--and I admire people with hobbies. Third, I
am fond of children, and--and--your daughter is a very pleasant,
intelligent child. Fourth, you have insisted on selling me an interest
in your invention, in return for a small loan, and that fact would draw
me here, if nothing else did. These are motives enough to satisfy the
most inquisitive mind, I should think."

Marcus said this with an attempt at a light laugh. But there was one
motive not yet confessed--a motive which could hardly be called a
motive, for it lay dim and half-formed within his brain. He had never,
in his moments of self-inquisition, acknowledged its existence to
himself. How could he, then, venture to disclose it to another? It was
the suppression of this immature motive, that brought back that look of
deceit and guilt to Marcus Wilkeson's ingenuous face.

This unfortunate physiognomical revelation was not lost upon the keen
eyes of the inventor. But he said:

"Mr. Wilkeson, let us not say another word on this ridiculous subject. I
am ashamed of myself for showing you the letter. I ought to have thrown
it into the fire."

"There I differ with you, my dear sir," said Marcus. "You did perfectly
right,