Mr. Hollingworth made a deprecatory motion with his hand which the injured father construed into a refusal. Mr. Manners was motionless.
"Very well, gentlemen," said Mr. Parkinson, with a gesture, half despairing, half scornful, "I will take your silence for what it is worth. But listen to me. There appears to be a double villainy in this affair, and it shall be brought to light. In my daughter's belief, the name of the man who betrayed her is Richard Hollingworth; and if your son's name has been so used it has been used for a vile purpose, and your honor is concerned as well as my own--if you will excuse a common working-man for speaking of his honor."
"Nay, nay, Mr. Parkinson," said Mr. Hollingworth, gently, "surely you will not do me a further injustice!"
"It is far from my wish, sir; but it is natural--perhaps you will admit it--that words should escape me for which I ought not to be held strictly accountable. Again I ask your pardon. You have met me fairly, and I thank you for it. That is all, I think."
"Good-night, Mr. Parkinson," said Mr. Hollingworth, holding out his hand. "There are reasons why I should say nothing further at present. I will make a point of calling upon you and your daughter, with my son, if you will permit me. And if I can in any way befriend you--"
"You can in one way," interrupted Mr. Parkinson, "and in one way only; by helping me unmask this villain and bringing him to justice. He has ruined my daughter's life, and I will ruin his if it is in my power--ay, I will, though it cost me the last drop of my blood. Good-night, sir."
He turned to go, but stopped at the instance of Mr. Manners.
"One moment," said that gentleman; "your visit here is at an end, and mine is nearly so. Would you have any objection to waiting for me below for two or three minutes? I wish to speak privately with you."
"Will it serve any good purpose?" demanded Mr. Parkinson.
"It may," replied Mr. Manners. "There are other wrongs than yours."