"But I shall not allow the matter to end here," said Mark Inglefield, warmly. "I shall put it at once in the hands of a detective, who will, I dare say, be able to ascertain how far we have been imposed upon. The sooner the inquiry is opened up the stronger will be our chances of arriving at the truth. Do you approve of what I propose?" "It is the right course," said Mr. Manners. "I was about to propose it myself." "I will go then at once. In simple justice to me, sir, if you see Mr. Hollingworth, you should tell him how cruelly I have been suspected." "You shall be set right in his eyes, Inglefield. If I can find time to-day, I will make a point of paying him a visit." "My mind is greatly relieved, sir. Good-morning."' "Good-morning, Inglefield." Mark Inglefield, without addressing a word to Mr. Parkinson, went his way. The conversation between him and Mr. Manners had been quite private. Before he left the street he looked to see if Blooming Bess was still there, but she had disappeared. He did not proceed to the office of any detective. Slowly, and in deep thought, he walked towards the Mansion House; the crowds of people hurrying apparently all ways at once disturbed him and annoyed him; it was impossible to think calmly in the midst of such noise and bustle. If ever there was a time in his life when he needed quiet and repose to think out the schemes which were stirring in his cunning mind, that time was now. The danger was averted for a while, but he could not yet regard himself as safe. He had to reckon with Blooming Bess. That she had recognized him was certain--as certain as that she had played into his hands, and put his enemies off the scent. "I wonder," he thought, "that she did not ask my name and address. What a misfortune that she should have presented herself when I was in the street!" He was not aware that the girl of whom he was thinking was following him stealthily, and had never for a moment lost sight of him. He turned to the left, and reached the Embankment. It was quieter there. Blooming Bess followed him. There were few people about, and he strolled leisurely along, looking at the river. The principle of evil was strong within him. He belonged to that class of men who will hesitate at nothing that can be done with safety to protect themselves. He was not bold enough for deeds of violence; his nature was sufficiently ruthless, and he was not troubled with qualms of conscience; but his first consideration had ever been to keep himself on the safe side. In his methods he was sly, cunning, deceitful, treacherous; but physically he was a coward. He had, however, the greatest confidence in his resources. "I shall beat them all yet," he thought; and thought, too, what a stroke of fortune it would be if sudden death were to overtake those who stood in his path. He had passed Waterloo Bridge when he felt a touch upon his arm. He looked down and saw Blooming Bess. "Oh," he said, with no outward show of displeasure.