'You have published a book called "Illusion,"' said Vincent, going straight to the point in his impatience. 'I want to know if you feel at liberty to give me any information as to its author?' Mr. Fladgate's eyebrows went up, and the vertical fold between them deepened. 'Information,' he repeated. 'Oh, dear me, no; it is not our practice, really. But you can put your question of course, if you like, and I will tell you if we should be justified in answering you,' he added, as he saw nothing offensive in his visitor's manner. 'Thank you,' said Vincent. 'I will, then. Would you be justified in telling me if the name of "Cyril Ernstone" is a real or assumed one?' 'A few days ago I should have said certainly not; as it is--I presume you are anxious to meet Mr. Ernstone?' 'I am,' said Vincent: 'very much so.' 'Ah, just so; well, it happens that you need not have given yourself the trouble to come here to ask that question. As you are here, however, I can gratify your curiosity without the slightest breach of confidence. There is our later edition of the book on that table; the title-page will tell you all you want to know.' Vincent's hand trembled as he took the book. Then he opened it, and the title-page did tell him all. His worst suspicions were more than verified. He had been meanly betrayed by the man he had trusted--the man whom he had thought his dearest friend! The shock stunned him almost as if it had found him totally unprepared. 'It was Mark, then,' he said only half aloud, as he put the book down again very gently. 'Ah, so you know him?' said Mr. Fladgate, who stood by smiling. 'He was one of my oldest friends,' replied Vincent, still in a low voice. 'And you suspected him, eh?' continued the publisher, who was not the most observant of men. 'He took some pains to put me off the scent,' said Vincent. 'Yes; he kept his secret very well, didn't he? Now, you see, he feels quite safe in declaring himself--a very brilliant young man, sir. I congratulate you in finding an old friend in him.' 'I am very fortunate, I know,' said Vincent, grimly. 'Oh, and it will be a pleasant surprise for him too!' said Mr. Fladgate, 'very pleasant on both sides. Success hasn't spoilt him in the least--you won't find him at all stuck up!' 'No,' agreed Vincent, 'I don't think I shall. And now perhaps you will have no objection to give me his present address, and then I need trouble you no longer at present.' 'I see--you would naturally like to congratulate him!' 'I should like to let him know what I think about it,' said Holroyd. 'Exactly--well, let me see, I _ought_ to have his address somewhere. I had a letter from him only the other day--did I put it on my file? no, here it is--yes. "Hotel Rheinfall, Gross Laufingen, Switzerland,"--if you write to your friend any time this month, it will find him there.' Vincent took the address down in his notebook and turned to go.