'I have not indeed,' said Mark, 'my friend was very anxious to retain his incognito.' 'He must have been--very much so,' said Mr. Fladgate, coughing; 'well, perhaps you can bring me some writing of his to that effect? You may have it among your papers, eh?' 'No,' said Mark, 'my friend did not think it necessary to give me one--he was anxious to----' 'Oh, quite so--then you can procure me a line or two perhaps?' 'I told you that my friend was dead,' said Mark a little impatiently. 'Ah, so you did, to be sure, I forgot. I thought--but no matter. Well, Mr. Ashburn, if you can't say anything more than this--anything, you understand, which puts you in a position to treat with us, I'm afraid--I'm _afraid_ I must ask time to think over this. If your friend is really dead, I suppose your authority is determined. Perhaps, however, his--ahem--anxiety to preserve his incognito has led him to allow this rumour of his death to be circulated?' 'I don't think that is likely,' said Mark, wondering at an undercurrent of meaning in the publisher's tone, a meaning which had nothing sinister in it, and yet seemed urging him to contradict himself for some reason. 'That is your last word, then?' said Mr. Fladgate, and there was a sharp inflection as of disappointment and irritation in his voice, and the fold in his forehead deepened. 'It must be,' said Mark, rising, 'I have kept you too long already.' 'If you really _must_ go,' said Mr. Fladgate, not using the words in their conventional sense of polite dismissal. 'But, Mr. Ashburn, are you quite sure that this interview might not be saved from coming to nothing, as it seems about to do? Might not a word or two from you set things right again? I don't wish to force you to tell me anything you would rather keep concealed--but really, this story you tell about a Mr. Vincent Beauchamp who is dead only ties our hands, you understand--ties our hands!' 'If so,' said Mark, uncomfortably, 'I can only say I am very sorry for it--I don't see how I can help it.' He was beginning to feel that this business of Holroyd's had given him quite trouble enough. 'Now, Mr. Ashburn, as I said before, I should be the last man to press you--but really, you know, _really_--this is a trifle absurd! I think you might be a little more frank with me, I do indeed. There is no reason why you should not trust me!' Was this man tempting him, thought Mark. Could he be so anxious to bring out this book that he was actually trying to induce him to fabricate some story which would get over the difficulties that had arisen?