matter. 'Perhaps I was too ready to put the worst
construction on what I heard,' he said apologetically, 'but after what
you've told me, why----'

'Well, we'll say no more about it,' said Caffyn; 'you understand me
now, and that's all _I_ cared about.' ('You may be a great genius, my
friend,' he was thinking, 'but it's not so very difficult to get round
you, after all!') 'Look here,' he continued, 'will you come and see me
one of these days--it would be a great kindness to me. I've got rooms
in Kremlin Road, Bayswater, No. 72.'

Mark changed countenance very slightly as he heard the address--it had
been Holroyd's. There was nothing in that to alarm him, and yet he
could not resist a superstitious terror at the coincidence. Caffyn
noticed the effect directly. 'Do you know Kremlin Road?' he said.

Something made Mark anxious to explain the emotion he felt he had
given way to. 'Yes,' he said, 'a--a very old friend of mine had
lodgings at that very house. He was lost at sea, so when you mentioned
the place I----'

'I see,' said Caffyn. 'Of course. Was your friend Vincent Holroyd, I
wonder?'

'You knew him?' cried Mark; 'you!'

('Got the Railway Station effect that _time_!' thought Caffyn. 'I
begin to believe my dear uncle touched a weak spot after all. If he
_has_ a secret, it's ten to one Holroyd knew it--knows it, by Jove!')

'Oh, yes, I knew poor old Holroyd,' he said; 'that's how I came to
take his rooms. Sad thing, his going down like that, wasn't it? It
must have been a great shock for you--I can see you haven't got over
it even yet.'

'No,' stammered Mark, 'no--yes, I felt it a great deal. I--I didn't
know you were a friend of his, too; did--did you know him well?'

'Very well; in fact I don't fancy he had any secrets from me.'

Like lightning the thought flashed across Mark's mind, what if Caffyn
had been entrusted with Holroyd's literary projects? But he remembered
the next moment that Holroyd had expressly said that he had never told
a soul of his cherished work until that last evening in Rotten Row.
Caffyn had lied, but with a purpose, and as the result confirmed his
suspicions he changed the subject, and was amused at Mark's evident
relief.

Towards the end of the evening Mr. Fladgate came up in his amiable way
and laid his hand jocularly on Caffyn's shoulder. 'Let me give you a
word of advice,' he said laughing; 'don't talk to Mr. Ashburn here
about his book.'

'Shouldn't presume to,' said Caffy