"At present I must decline to give it to you," said Mr. Manners, and would have proceeded had he not been interrupted roughly by Mr. Parkinson, who exclaimed:
"That's the thanks I get! I might have known what to expect! But I'll find out where you live, and I'll dog you like your shadow till I come face to face with him."
"There is no cause for you to speak to me like that. I have told you who I am, and wished you to come with me to my house. Mr. Parkinson, you have done me a great service, and in return I would give you all the assistance in my power. But threats and violence will not help you here. For the present, leave your wrongs to me; it is not unlikely I may be able to render you an infinitely greater service than you dream of. I ask you to trust me."
"For how long?"
"For a few days."
"Have you influence with the scoundrel?"
"I have."
A queer smile played about Mr. Parkinson's lips. "An infinitely greater service than I dream of," he said, repeating Mr. Manners's words. "Of course there's but one way of setting this thing right, and then I should lose my daughter. That's what we have children for--to plague, or torment, or disgrace us."
Mr. Manners laid his hand gently on Mr. Parkinson's arm, and said, "We bring such punishment upon ourselves often. Perhaps it is the parents, not the children, who are chiefly to blame. Good-night, Mr. Parkinson. Here is my card; if you wish to see me you are welcome at any time. If you do not come to me I will come to you. There is one other favor I would ask of you."
"Name it, sir."