"Before I recount the shameful story he related, of which you appear ignorant--" "Of which I _am_ ignorant," interposed Mark Inglefield. "It is but right," continued Mr. Manners, ignoring the interruption, "that I should make reference to a certain understanding between ourselves. I refer to the promise I gave you to make you my heir." Mark Inglefield caught his breath, and his face grew a shade paler. "This promise, in effect, as we sit together here to-night, is already fulfilled. My will is made out to that end." Mark Inglefield recovered himself. What need was there for anxiety? The blow was unexpected and crushing, but he would prove himself a clumsy bungler indeed if he were unable to parry it. "I have never had any uneasiness on that score, sir," he said. "Your promised word was sufficient assurance. The trust, the confidence you reposed in me cannot be shaken by false statements." "It is not for me to say," remarked Mr. Manners, "at the present juncture, whether the statements made by Mr. Parkinson are true or false; but as they stand they affect you vitally, so far as worldly circumstances go. I do not hold myself bound by my promise if I find I have been deceived in you. It was given to a man of honor. Prove yourself so, and you shall not be disappointed, although some small share of my wealth may be otherwise bestowed. But I tell you frankly that I intend, quite apart from what you may have to say, to sift this man's story to the bottom, and to come to the truth of it. You have not lived with me all these years, Inglefield, without knowing that when I announce an intention I shall carry it out to its end. Mr. Parkinson's story, and other disclosures of which it formed the groundwork, have deeply affected me, and may have a strong bearing upon the small span of life which is yet left to me. I am speaking to you openly, because the occasion demands it. Quite independent of the wrong of which Mr. Parkinson justly complains, there are matters of which I intend to speak to you. Shall we go into them to-night, or would you prefer to defer their consideration till the morning?" "To-night, sir, to-night," exclaimed Mark Inglefield, with an exhibition of great indignation. "I could not sleep until I have removed from your mind the unjust suspicions which have been planted there by a man who is an utter stranger to me." CHAPTER XXXVIII.