"Of course I have no objection," said Mark Inglefield. "I will do whatever I can to help you; only come to the point." "I'll do so, sir. Your visit here, on the face of it, seems fair and above-board. What I want to know first is, how it happens that my daughter had a portrait of yours in her possession?" "My dear sir," replied Mark Inglefield, blandly, "you are putting a conundrum to me." "You don't know how she got hold of it, sir?" "I haven't the remotest notion." "How comes it that, when I taxed her with it, she confessed that it was the portrait of the scoundrel who had brought her shame upon her?" At this question all eyes were directed towards Mark Inglefield. Nothing daunted, he said: "That is a question it is impossible for me to answer. She must, of course, have had some motive in giving utterance to so direct a falsehood. My only regret is that she is not here to tell you herself that we are complete strangers to each other. Has your daughter always told you the truth? Has she never deceived you?" Mr. Parkinson winced; these questions struck home. "Why, then," continued Mark Inglefield, perceiving his advantage, "should she not have deceived you in this instance? Perhaps she wishes to screen the man against whom you are justly angered; perhaps she still has a sneaking fondness for him, and protects him by throwing the blame upon a stranger." "I don't dispute," said Mr. Parkinson, "that you may be right. But are you public property?" "I fail to understand you." "Are you a public man, sir?" "Thank Heaven, no. I am a private gentleman." "Your portraits are not put up in the shop windows for sale?" "No." "Then what I want to know is," said Mr. Parkinson, doggedly sticking to his point, "how your portrait fell into her hands." "And that, I repeat," said Mark Inglefield, impatiently, "is exactly what I am unable to tell you." "She couldn't have bought it. She must have had it given to her by some one." "Well?" "Whoever gave it to her must know you, and you must know him." A murmur of approval ran through the throng. Nothing better pleases such an audience, as was now assembled, than an argument logically worked out. "That does not follow," disputed Mark Inglefield, annoyed at Mr. Parkinson's pertinacity, but seeing no way to avoid it without incurring the risk of reviving Mr. Manners's suspicions. "That's where the chances are, at all events," said Mr. Parkinson. "You see, sir, that you can't help being dragged into this bad business." "And if I decline to be dragged into it?" "It is what very few men would do, sir. I should say--and I think most of those round us will agree with me--that you are bound to do all you can to assist me in discovering the scoundrel who would ruin you as well as me." Mr. Manners looked straight at Mark Inglefield. Mr. Parkinson's view tallied with that which he had expressed to Inglefield in their interview.