Vincent had not expected this, having fancied that his loose papers had all been destroyed, as he had certainly intended them to be on leaving England. He was silent for some seconds, then he said: 'You must get those papers for me: they are mine.' 'But, my dear fellow,' argued Caffyn, 'what earthly use can they be to _you_?' 'What business is that of yours?' retorted Vincent. 'I want them--I mean to have them.' 'You won't do any good by taking that tone with _me_, you know. Just listen to reason: if you produce these papers yourself, you'll only be laughed at for your pains. You must let some one else manage the business for you. You can't smash Ashburn alone--you can't indeed!' 'And who told you,' said Vincent, 'that I want to smash Ashburn?' 'For Heaven's sake don't _you_ turn hypocrite!' drawled Caffyn. 'You can speak out now--if you've got anything inside you but sawdust, of _course_ you want to smash Ashburn! I saw your game long ago.' 'Did you?' said Vincent, who began to have the greatest difficulty in keeping his temper. 'And what was my game?' 'Why,' explained Caffyn, 'you knew well enough that if you set up a claim like that on your mere word, you wouldn't find many to believe you, and you didn't feel up to such a fight as you would have before you; so you've very prudently been lying low till you could get Master Mark off his guard, or till something turned up to help you. Now's your time. _I'll_ help you!' 'Then, once more, get me those papers,' said Vincent. 'To think,' observed Caffyn, with pity, 'that the man who could write "Illusion" should be so dense. Don't I tell you you must keep in the background? You leave it all to me. There's a literary fellow I know who's on lots of journals that like nothing better than taking up cases like yours, when they're satisfied there's something in them. I can manage all that for you, and in a few days look out for an article that will do Ashburn's business for him. You needn't be afraid of his fighting--he'll never have the nerve to bring a libel action! But you can't work this yourself; in your hands all that evidence is waste paper--it's the date and manner of its discovery which must be proved to make it of any value--and that's where _I_ come in. I need scarcely tell you perhaps that I don't propose to mix myself up in all this, unless there is some better understanding between us in the future.' 'You had better be quite plain,' said Vincent. 'What is your proposal?' 'There has been a little unpleasantness about a letter which little Dolly Langton and I accidentally----' 'I know the facts, thank you,' interrupted Vincent. 'That makes it easier,' continued the other, unabashed, 'though you've probably been told the highly coloured version.' 'I've been told that you bullied that poor child into burning a letter of mine which you hadn't the courage to suppress for yourself,' said Vincent.