"Nor from you, I hope, sir?"
"No, nor from me."
"Surely Mr. Hollingworth raised no objection?"
"He was not the originator of it."
Mark Inglefield took heart of grace. Whatever grievance had arisen--and he was too wary to demand its nature with any show of indignation; it might lead to the idea that he himself was conscious of something blamable in his conduct; it was by far the best to avoid anything that savored of heat, and to maintain the attitude he had always assumed with Mr. Manners--whatever grievance, then, had arisen must be purely imaginary, and could be easily explained away.
"I await your pleasure," he said, "and am ready, as I have already stated, to give you any explanation you require."
"The interview between Mr. Hollingworth and myself," said Mr. Manners, his eyes fixed upon Mark Inglefield's face, in which no trace of discomposure was visible, "was nearly at an end, when a visitor was announced. It is not my habit to beat about the bush, Inglefield. The name of this visitor was Parkinson."
Not a muscle in Mark Inglefield's features twitched, although he recognized at once the precipice upon which he was standing.
"Parkinson," he repeated, in a tone of unconcern.
"Do you know a man of that name?" asked Mr. Manners.