"Parkinson! Parkinson!" said Mark Inglefield, as though searching his memory. "No. I am not acquainted with any man bearing that name."
"Nor with any woman?"
"Nor with any woman," replied Mark Inglefield, coolly. "It is only fair that you should be told what this man revealed."
"If it affects me, certainly, though I am completely in the dark. The person was admitted, then?"
"He would not be denied. It appears that he has called repeatedly at Mr. Hollingworth's house, with the purpose of seeing that gentleman, and he refused to go away now without being satisfied."
"As you evidently suppose me to be implicated in the revelation--I adopt your own term, sir--he made, I am entitled to ask whether he is a gentleman."
"He is a working-man."
Mark Inglefield leaned back in his chair with an air of content, expressing in this action a consciousness of complete innocence.
"I was really beginning to fear," he said, "that a charge had been brought against me by one whose words would have some weight."
"Mr. Parkinson's words had considerable weight," said Mr. Manners, "and the tale he related was true."