"Having, then, made this clear to you, having as it were consented to have a false light thrown upon my actions, you cannot doubt my sincerity when I say that you have my warmest wishes towards the success of what you desire. But this is what I wish to say, and I beg you will not misconstrue me. The new impressions you received were gained from this Mr. Parkinson, whom you so unexpectedly met at Mr. Hollingworth's house last night." "Yes." "Heaven forbid that I should step between father and son! The duty that I once felt devolved upon me was a most painful one, but I did it fearlessly, in the hope that the disclosures it was unhappily in my power to make might have been the means of assisting you to the accomplishment of your wishes with respect to your son. As I did my duty then, fearless of consequences, so must I do it now." "Well, Inglefield?" "I repeat, sir, that the new impressions you gained were gained from statements made by Mr. Parkinson. I have no hesitation--you must pardon me for being so frank--in declaring him to be a slanderer. I have no key to the mystery of the plot which, in the hands of a man less just than yourself, would almost surely have been my ruin, and I should be wanting in respect to myself were I not indignant at the monstrous charge of which it seems I stand accused, and of which I am now going with you to clear myself. That will be a simple matter, and I will pass it by. But, sir, if it is proved that Mr. Parkinson is wrong in my case, if it is proved that for some purpose of his own, and perhaps of others, he has invented an abominable story, and committed himself to abominable statements, may he not also be wrong in the statements he has made respecting persons whom, out of consideration for you, I will not name?" "You refer to my son and his wife," said Mr. Manners. Inglefield was silent. "I can cast no blame upon you, Inglefield. I can only repeat that everything shall be put to the proof." With this remark Inglefield was fain to be satisfied; but he inwardly congratulated himself that he had done something to throw doubt upon Mr. Parkinson's eulogies of Kingsley and Nansie. They did not walk all the way to the east of London, but, as Mark Inglefield had done but a few short hours ago, they rode to within a quarter of a mile of Mr. Parkinson's residence, to which they then proceeded on foot. As they drew near they became aware that the neighborhood was abnormally excited. It was past twelve o'clock when they reached the street in which Mr. Parkinson resided, and this was the dinner-hour of a great many of the working men and women roundabout. The majority of these were standing in groups, talking excitedly of an event in which it was evident they were hugely interested. Mark Inglefield guessed what it was, but Mr. Manners had no clew to it. He inquired his way to Mr. Parkinson's house, and, at the moment he reached it, was confronted by Mr. Parkinson himself.