"I know of nothing, Inglefield; but then our courses have lain somewhat apart. There should certainly, in our relations, have been a closer confidence. However, all that is past, and it is not given to us to recall our actions. Now that we are speaking together, openly and frankly, there must be no reservations. I have plainly indicated to you the course I have resolved upon with respect to the story of Mary Parkinson. I have pledged myself to assist him in obtaining justice, and you know that I shall keep my word. Let me tell you that there appears to be something strange in your attitude on this question." "What do you expect of me? I can afford to treat with quiet scorn the accusation which you seem to favor against me." "You are still on the wrong tack--a surprise to me in a man of so much intelligence. I expected from you something more than general statements." "If you would put direct questions to me," said Mark Inglefield, who all this time was in serious mental debate with himself, "I should cease from unconsciously offending you. I owe you much, sir, and all my future prospects depend upon you. Recognizing and acknowledging this, it would be the height of folly in me to disappoint you in any way; but, I repeat, I am in the dark as to what you expect from me." "You would prefer that I should ask straight questions?" "It is my wish." "I will do so. You are now acquainted with the disgraceful story which has caused both Mr. Hollingworth and myself to assume an attitude towards you for which we shall fully atone if we are satisfied there are no grounds for it. You do not know any person, male or female, bearing the name of Parkinson?" "I do not." "Do you deny that you are, directly or indirectly, connected with the wrong of which Mr. Parkinson complains?" "I deny it emphatically." Mark Inglefield said it boldly, and met Mr. Manners's gaze unflinchingly. "That is plain speaking," said Mr. Manners. "You must pardon me if I widen the matter a little. It is far from my wish to pry into your private concerns, but to some extent they affect me." "You have every right to inquire into them," said Mark Inglefield; and now that he was launched on a full tide of deceit and treachery, determined to override every obstacle and to overcome every danger, there was nothing in his voice or manner to which the most suspicious person could take exception. "Every action in my life is open for your inspection." "The man who has wronged Mr. Parkinson's daughter presented himself to her under a false name. She may have done the same to him." "I understand what you mean, sir," said Mark Inglefield, not giving Mr. Manners time to finish, "and I declare, upon my honor as a gentleman, that there lives not a woman in the world who can complain of wrong at my hands. Is that sufficiently comprehensive, sir?" "So far as Mary Parkinson is concerned," replied Mr. Manners, "it covers the whole ground, although it does not clear up the mystery."