Mark drew a long sweet breath of relief. What a fright he had had! This old gentleman evidently supposed he had unearthed a great literary secret; but why had it made him so angry? 'Certainly not,' he replied, firm and composed again now. 'I _am_ Mr. Cyril Ernstone. I'm very sorry if it annoys you.' 'It _does_ annoy me, sir. I have a right to be annoyed, and you know the reason well enough!' 'Do you know,' said Mark languidly, 'I'm really afraid I don't.' 'Then I'll tell you, sir. In this novel of yours you've put a character called--wait a bit--ah, yes, called Blackshaw, a retired country solicitor, sir.' 'Very likely,' said Mark, who had been getting rather rusty with 'Illusion' of late. '_I'm_ a retired country solicitor, sir! You've made him a man of low character; you show him up all through the book as perpetually mixing in petty squabbles, sir; on one occasion you actually allow him to get drunk Now what do you mean by it?' 'Good heavens,' said Mark, with a laugh, 'you don't seriously mean to tell me you consider all this personal?' 'I do very seriously mean to tell you so, young gentleman,' said Mr. Humpage, showing his teeth with a kind of snarl. 'There are people who will see personalities in a proposition of Euclid,' said Mark, now completely himself again, and rather amused by the scene; 'I should think you must be one of them, Mr. Humpage. Will it comfort you if I let you know that I--that this book was written months before I first had the pleasure of seeing you.' 'No, sir, not at all. That only shows me more clearly what I knew already. That there has been another hand at work here. I see that uncle of yours behind your back here.' 'Do you though?' said Mark. 'He's not considered literary as a general rule.' 'Oh, he's quite literary enough to be libellous. Just cast your eye over this copy. Your uncle sent this to me as a present, the first work of his nephew. I thought at first he was trying to be friendly again, till I opened the book! Just look at it, sir!' And the old man fumbled through the leaves with his trembling hands. 'Here's a passage where your solicitor is guilty of a bit of sharp practice--underlined by your precious uncle! And here he sets two parties by the ears--underlined by your uncle, in red ink, sir; and it's like that all through the book. _Now_ what do you say?' 'What _can_ I say?' said Mark, with a shrug. 'You must really go and fight it out with my uncle; if he is foolish enough to insult you, that's not exactly a reason for coming here to roar at _me_.' 'You're as bad as he is, every bit. I had him up at sessions over that gander, and he hasn't forgotten it. You had a hand in that affair, too, I remember. Your victim, sir, was never the same bird again--you'll be pleased to hear that--never the same bird again!'